BioChem - The Origin Story, pt 1
by independentalto
Summary: What if the Red Room had shown its face at the Olympics? And what if, instead of Clint, Bobbi Morse had made a different call? Eventual Clintasha! *SCREWS WITH THE ENTIRE TIMELINE AND BASICALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THE MCU. So kinda AU, but not really?* (aka Clint and Nat with a sprinkling in of Bobbi and May. And Hill, because why not.)
1. Bobbi Always Gets Everything

**Welcome to the official start of the journey! If you're new to this universe, "All of the Reasons Why" chapter 43 is a good place to start; you can find the whole thing in my bio. Not required reading, but you'll understand it a lot more!**

 ***throws away everything I know about the MCU and comics universe just _because_ * **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Greece, 2005**

A rush of wind.

A gasp of air.

The crunch of gravel.

Bobbi flew around the track, her long legs effortlessly completing another lap as she handed her gold baton to Maria, who took off without a word. Her chest heaving, Bobbi jogged over to the sidelines, uncapping and taking a large swig of her water as sweat poured down her forehead. Maria was already halfway around the track by the time she'd properly hydrated, and she jogged back out, preparing herself to receive the baton once more.

"Thor it?" Maria hollered to Bobbi as she approached, and Bobbi grinned. She loved when she got to play with the baton.

"Thor it," she hollered back, and in a glint of gold, the baton was hurtling in a vertical fashion towards Bobbi, who caught it lengthwise and threw herself into the last lap, knowing that she was under pressure. As she crossed the finish line for the second time, she heard the distinct _beep_ of a stopwatch, skidding to a stop.

"Five minutes and three seconds," May said approvingly, checking her clipboard. Her quiet voice echoed in the large, empty, stadium, bouncing off of the steel beams and rounded ceiling. "Shaved thirty seconds off of your time." She turned to Maria, who had gotten her own water bottle before joining them. "Hill, think you can sprint like that during the actual event?"

"Remind me why, if we're undercover, we _actually_ have to run?" Maria complained as Bobbi regarded her skeptically. "If we lose, we're going to make the entire country look bad. Why couldn't we have gotten an _actual_ Olympic runner to run for SHIELD?"

"Because - "

"Because it would've compromised the entire operation, we could've gotten our cover blown, yada yada yada," Bobbi cut off May with a roll of her eyes, tossing a small towel to Maria. "You've heard this speech, what, thirty times?" she teased her friend. "And you _still_ decide to put me through hell by asking."

"Intelligence has it that there's going to be a large Red Room presence there," May said, checking over her clipboard once more. "We need to take out as many of its heads as possible, cut them off so that they don't come back." She regarded both of them solemnly. "So yes, we _will_ need to compete, no matter how bad we may look. Besides, it's just one event. All eyes will be on the Russians and their gymnasts," Maria and Bobbi nodded. They'd heard the rumors about the famed gymnastics team - small, deadly girls who had their routines down to a _t._ Their prize competitor was supposedly young Natalia Romanova, their smallest, yet most accomplished. None of the girls socialized during meals, which was why no one had learned a thing about them.

"We have any intelligence on the Russians yet?" Bobbi asked. "I mean, it's in three days. We have to have _something_ on them." May shook her head.

"Coulson and I have tried everything, and there's _nothing_ on them," she admitted. "All of them have clean records. It's like they don't even _have_ records. Which is worrying in itself," She frowned. "Like they've never seen the outside world."

"Then there's only one way to do it," Maria said, earning glances from Bobbi and May, who silently prompted her to go on. "We have to sneak into their practices. Or, if we want to go straight to the source, we go to _her_ practice. Romanova's."

"They'll have set up a private practice session for her," Bobbi realized what Maria was getting onto. "There won't be anyone else there, May, it's perfect." She turned to her 'coach' and supervising officer. "Let me go in. I can get any intel you might want."

"Hill's going in," May decided quietly. Both girls exchanged looks of shock. _What?_

"With all due respect, Agent May - "

"But Agent May, I possibly couldn't - "

"Hill. Goes. In." May's verdict was final. "She'll blend right in with the Russians, especially if we get her the stuff she needs." She turned to Bobbi. "You're too much of a Southern belle, Morse. You'll stick out like a sore thumb. Hill's plain enough that she can go unnoticed."

Not for the first time, Bobbi cursed her height and hair. "I can always dye my hair or something, or mess up my face a little bit -"

"And what will I tell the Olympic officials?" May asked. "That you decided to dye your hair out of nowhere just for the hell of it? We've had a hard enough time getting you two into the Olympics at all - do you know how hard it is to make two runners materialize out of nowhere? No backstory, no previous wins - I don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves." She gave Bobbi an apologetic look. "I know you want in on this mission, Morse, but I can't risk the entire op."

Bobbi deflated. "Yes, Agent May."

"Besides, you've done quite enough," May's voice was gentle as she placed a hand on the small of Bobbi's back. "The way you and Hill were running today, you two are probably slated for a gold medal if you keep it up."

She sighed. "Thanks." It was only slightly bitterly that she remarked, "I'm going to go a few rounds on the bag before I turn in,"

"Wise choice, Morse," May complimented, making eye contact with the blonde agent. "I want you to get a full nine hours of sleep. I don't need you slowing down on the track tomorrow." She turned to Maria. "Hill. Romanova has the gym booked for herself in an hour. We need to get you prepared."

"Not good enough, my ass," Bobbi muttered in the gym later that afternoon, trading blows with the trademark punching bag. It barely swung, mocking her skills further. _"_ I could totally act like a Russian if I wanted to." Gritting her teeth in frustration, she lashed out harder, driving her fist Into the bag. "Just...a...matter..of...opinion..."

* * *

She was so busy punching away at the bag that she barely noticed when the door to the all-gray gym swung open, a lithe redhead slithering in. She took a place at the bag next to Bobbi's, beginning to whale at it like it had done her a personal wrong. Soon, the bag was swinging wildly back and forth, so much that Bobbi stopped and watched in amazement as the young girl lashed out, undescribable force going into her blows.

"I can hold the bag for you, if you want," Bobbi offered, breaking the odd silence. The girl stopped beating up the bag and let it swing, staring curiously at Bobbi. There was no emotion in her eyes, Bobbi noted, only a mild curiosity as to why Bobbi was addressing _her,_ of all people.

"What?" the girl asked finally. To the untrained ear, her voice sounded plainly American, with maybe even the slightest hint of New Yorker. But Bobbi caught the slightest hint of a Russian accent - a very well-disguised Russian accent, but a Russian accent, no less.

"The bag," she motioned nonchalantly, jerking a thumb at the bag the redhead had been kicking at not less than a minute ago. "I can hold it for you, if you want." She offered the girl a reassuring smile. "They can be hell to kick at if you don't have someone to hold them for you."

The girl was silent for a few moments, and Bobbi began to wonder if she'd done something wrong. Then, after a few moments: "If you want to."

Bobbi said nothing, just took a place behind the bag, holding it steady as the girl resumed her motions once more, landing jabs and kicks at the bags that would've made May proud. She watched as the redheaded girl fought the bag as if it was a real person, and it began to dawn on her that she _just_ might be dealing with a Red Room agent. "Hey, you know what?" Bobbi asked, stopping the girl once more.

"What?" No inflection in the tone, she mused. Monotone.

"Wanna spar?" Lowering her voice, Bobbi whisper-confided, "I did a lot of fighting back home. My coach would kill me if she knew I was doing this, but I figure you won't tell, right?"

The girl regarded her carefully. "You think you could take me?" Slightly affronted, more of her Russian accent began to peek out. "I am not as defenseless as I seem, you know."

"Hey, I'm not saying that," Bobbi said, putting her hands up in surrender. "I saw what you did to that bag. I'd be a fool to call you defenseless after that. I'm just offering you a chance to spar," she said as she watched the girl's body language shift. "By the way you fought, I'm guessing you've got some fighting blood in you, too,"

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," the girl shrugged, and the two of them fell into step as they headed towards the sparring ring. Once on, they stared at each other, daring the other girl to make the first move.

Suddenly, the redhead was a blur of motion as she launched an attack on Bobbi, the blonde barely deflecting a punch to the stomach as she kicked her fighting instincts into gear. For a few minutes, both of them were a blur as they parried, kicked and punched, not quite fending off the other's attacks, but not exactly landing one either.

Finally, after having blocked one too many of the redhead's punches, Bobbi signaled for a stop, grabbing two towels that they'd placed on the ropes and tossing one to the other girl. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead and checked her arms - those would be some _nasty_ bruises to have in the morning.

"I expected you to be worse than that," the girl admitted, and Bobbi felt a flare of irritation rise up. Why _wouldn't_ she have been good, she'd graduated top of her class at the Academy...

 _...right,_ because the other girl didn't know she was SHIELD. _These are the assumptions that get you killed, Morse,_ she scolded herself. _Get a handle on yourself._ "Well, you weren't so bad, either," Bobbi quipped back only slightly spitefully, running a towel across her forehead. "More of a challenge than I'd expected."

"No one else has been able to match me," the girl admitted, raising an eyebrow at Bobbi. "Maybe we can spar again sometime?"

"I'd like that," In spite of herself, Bobbi grinned as she held her hand out for the other girl to shake. "Barbara Morse." (She wasn't about to get _too_ casual with the Russian...)

The other girl stuck out her hand. "Natalia. Romanova."

* * *

 **And so we begin! Unfortunately, our favorite tiny scientist isn't showing up anytime soon, but I hope that doesn't deter you! Please leave reviews - I _love_ them! :D**


	2. Live and Get Intel, but Mostly Live

**Hi to everyone that's here! Shoutout to TheMichiganWriter, jwlinder and Black' Victor Cachat for following!**

* * *

 _Romanova._

"You're that Romanova girl!" Bobbi blurted out automatically, a hand flying to cover her mouth as soon as she'd said it. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she thought to herself. _Now you're really going to compromise everyone._

Fortunately, Natalia didn't look the slightest bit suspicious. In fact, she was almost...flattered?

"So it seems I am," she remarked, amused. "Apparently word has been going around about me,"

"Well, _yeah,_ " Bobbi babbled, seizing on the chance to make up for her mistake. "Everyone sees you guys around the grounds, but you never talk to anyone. And I've heard you're always kicking everyone's asses during practices. I've got a friend on the gymnastics team," she explained. "You always have the place booked to yourself,"

"Believe me, it is not entirely by choice," Natalia remarked off-handedly, beginning to unwrap her hands. Her expression was bitter as she balled up the cloth in her hands. "My trainer always insist that my teammates and I keep to ourselves. He says that outside allies only distract from the competition."

"That's odd," Bobbi muttered to both herself and Natalia. "Nothing like a little social life for the soul,"

"But it doesn't matter anyways," Natalia said on the tail end of a sigh, stretching out a calf muscle. "I am only here as a way out. Once this competition is over, I plan to get as far away from them as possible." Bobbi frowned. SHIELD had a raid planned for the night after the event. If Natalia planned to escape then, she'd have a hell of a time getting out.

"Them?" She couldn't help but ask. "Who's 'them'?"

"Who they are is not important, nor would it better your life to know," Natalia answered honestly, standing up and rolling her shoulders. "You are the only person so far that has been able to even _challenge_ me in a sparring match, and I should not want to lose a sparring partner."

 _Red Room,_ Bobbi decided. _Definitely Red Room._ Aloud, she said, "Well, you know where to find me if you want to spar another time," She gestured to the punching bag. "This guy ain't seen the last of me." _Stupid line, Morse._ _Stupid_ _line._

"You should come to practice," Natalia said at the doorway as Bobbi resumed her attack on the punching bag. " That is what...friends do that, no?" For the first time, she looked uncertain of herself, not sure if she was taking the right steps. "Are we friends?"

Bobbi stopped and turned to the redhead, feeling a surge of pity for the girl. It was most likely she'd never had a friend in her life - and surely it wouldn't hurt for her to befriend the gymnast. Even if she _was_ an agent of the Red Room. Hell, it'd probably earn her a recommendation. "Yeah," she called out to Natalia. "We're friends."

* * *

" _You lucky bitch."_

Maria was glowering at Bobbi at the breakfast table the next morning, the displeasure clear in her face as she stabbed at her pancakes and bacon. Bobbi said nothing, only cheerfully chowed down on her eggs and fruit salad.

"So you said she ditched practice to work out in the weight room instead?" May asked, after getting over the fact that Bobbi had indeed managed to crack the Russians' best gymnast. "What else happened?"

"She invited me to go to one of her practices," Bobbi answered, spearing a kiwi with her fork. "May, I don't think she has any friends," she confided in her coach. "From the way she described it, it sounded like her coaches are keeping them in isolation," She couldn't keep the worry out of her voice, something May picked up on. She looked over to Bobbi, concerned.

"Knowing the Red Room, it could be a hell of a lot worse," she said grimly. "They're well known for isolating their agents so they're set up to kill each other. They're taught not to make friends with each other. Takes out the attachment. So the fact that she made friends with _you,_ Morse, makes it all the scarier."

"Still can't get over the fact that you managed to find her and I didn't," Maria mumbled. "Morse gets all the good stuff."

"I want you to get every single piece of Intel that you can get," May instructed, learning forward so that she wasn't heard. "Learn about their routines. Their lifestyles. Hell, learn about what they eat for breakfast, you got me, Morse? Don't come back until you know about how they spend every single second of their days. We got an in, and we're going to use it."

"Great," Bobbi mumbled around a mouthful of fruit. "So I'm either coming out informed or not coming out at all."

May gave her a weird look. "We need you, Morse. Preferably alive."

* * *

Bobbi looked around warily as she pulled open the handle to the gym door. There wasn't a soul in sight, so she took the opportunity to enter, ducking into the gym. A sort of sacred silence filled the air as she stepped in, sunlight highlighting the individual dust motes as it streamed through the high windows. As the air washed over her, envelopping her in its entirety, she suddenly understood why Natalia would've stayed with the sport, despite the oppressive environment around her. In her mind's eye, she could already see a lone figure swinging from the parallel bars, arcing gracefully through the air as they dismounted, a perfect _thud_ on the mat as the landing was stuck.

"Barbara?"

Bobbi barely had time to register that Natalia was there before she was snatched up by a large, meaty paw, dangling in the air like some useless puppet. (She chose not to struggle, of course. It would've completely given her agent status away. The person behind her _totally_ hadn't caught her by surprise. Not at all.)

"кто она?" he demanded of Natalia, as Bobbi squirmed in the air. " _кто она_?" His voice rose to a loud shout, and Natalia quailed under the force of it, any defiance she'd possibly brought to the room quickly fading.

"Она просто девушка." Her voice was flat and inflectionless, and for a moment, Bobbi feared that she wouldn't make it out alive - that Natalia had somehow found her out her agent status and was ready to kill her right then and there.

"Просто девушка, хм?" the man holding her asked, and Bobbi began to jerk up and down as the man laughed, his potbelly jiggling in time with her movements. Behind her, the group of motley men began to laugh in unison with him, creating a grimy chorus that made Bobbi feel ill. "Вы вдруг стала лесбиянкой, Наталья?"

"Она единственная причина я здесь," Natalia replied seriously, the hint of a threat flashing in her green eyes. "Вы ей больно, я буду ходить прямо в эту дверь. И это риск, вы не можете позволить себе взять." The men stopped suddenly at her statement.

 _"Вы не будет."_

"Да, но я бы," Natalia replied sarcastically, winking at Bobbi. Still fearing for her life, Bobbi just found it in her to flash back a weak smile. _How long until she was_ possibly _going to die?_ "Не хотелось бы мне продавать секреты американцам, не так ли?"

"И ее?"

"Barbara, what are you?" she called to Bobbi.

"Track?" Bobbi answered cautiously. "Track and field?" The blood was beginning to rush to her head, and she willed herself to take deep breaths. It wouldn't do to pass out on valuable information.

"Смотрите, не конкуренция," Natalia chirped, a growl coming into her voice. _"Теперь ее."_ Bobbi was immediately dropped to the ground, and she scrambled to her feet, checking for any bruises that would prevent her from competing.

"Forgive me," the man said in halting English, extending a hand to her. "It seems we have had a slight...misunderstanding, as you Americans say." Bobbi took the hand cautiously, noting that he had a firm grip. "Ivan Petrovitch. Natalia's trainer."

"Also a sexist _pig,_ " Natalia muttered to Bobbi as she began to warm up, grabbing her foot and raising it above her head. "The bleachers are open to you, Barbara, should you wish to stay." Embarrassment flashed across her face. "I apologize that you encountered a...less than warm welcome,"

"Nah, it's good," Bobbi answered, shooting the other girl a warm smile. "Besides," she said, dropping her voice. "you and I both know I could've kicked his ass if I wanted to," The other girl laughed at that, and she headed to the bleachers as Natalia began the first part of her routine, settling in as faint strains of classical music began to filter in from speakers unseen.

 _May wasn't lying when she said she was good._

She watched as Natalia flew across the floor, her petite feet just barely landing in the corner marked off by white tape, the sunlight gleaming off of her form as she went through another series of roundoffs and backflips. The music ended, and Bobbi turned to see Ivan bark out a few comments before Natalia headed over to the bars.

Her grace was no different than it had been on the floor, the parallel bar barely bending as she whipped herself around and around, turning more times than Bobbi cared to count. Not once did she appear to be in danger of falling, and halfway through the routine, she noticed that Natalia seemed to be in the zone, effortlessly executing without conscious thought. When she landed, Bobbi had to restrain herself from clapping, if only not to startle her friend.

This went on as Natalia went through the various events, breezing through them all as if they were an elementary schooler's exam. (Which, Bobbi mused, wasn't probably far off for someone of her caliber.) At the end of the practice, Ivan grumbled a "Хорошо, Романова" before waving a hand, signaling that she was dismissed.

"Oh my _god,_ you're good," she gushed as Natalia came up to her. "I've seen the American gymnasts practice, and you blew them all out of the water." The redhead gave a sort of funny half-smile as she chugged some of her Gatorade.

"It is what you see after long hours of practice," she shrugged, her eyes downcast. "It has taken a lot of hard work for me to get to where I am today." Fiddling with the cap of her water bottle, she said shyly, "Are you...are you going to come to the event?"

Despite her inner protests, Bobbi found herself nodding. "Sure. When is it again?"

"Two days," Natalia answered, looking at Bobbi. "You're a good friend, Barbara," she said suddenly. "I have always been taught not to open up to people, to trust no one." She looked at Bobbi appraisingly. "But you...there is something different."

"Thanks," Bobbi said tightly, wishing she was anywhere but here. "You're...you're cool too, Natalia."

 _It's really too bad I might have to kill you._

 _And my name's Bobbi._

* * *

 **And for y'all, here's your translations...**

 _ **кто она - who is she**_

 **Она просто девушка** _ **\- she's just a girl**_

 **Просто девушка, хм** _ **\- just a girl, hm?**_

 **Вы вдруг стала лесбиянкой, Наталья** _ **\- you suddenly become a lesbian, Natalia?**_

 **Она единственная причина я здесь** _ **\- she's the only reason I'm here**_

 **Вы ей больно, я буду ходить прямо в эту дверь. И это риск, вы не можете позволить себе взять** _ **\- you hurt her, I will walk right out this door. And that's a risk you can't afford to take.**_

 **Вы не будет** _ **\- you wouldn't**_

 **Да, но я бы - _oh, but I would_**

 **Не хотелось бы мне продавать секреты американцам, не так ли - _wouldn't want me selling information to the Americans_** ** _, would we?_**

 **И ее - _and her?_**

 **Смотрите, не конкуренция - _see, not competition_**

 **Теперь ее - _now let her down_**

 **Review? They're so much fun! And I love talking to anyone that leaves one! :D**


	3. RUN!

**Hi! How's everyone this week? Been a long one, really.**

 **Shoutout to ClintandNatasha, BookwormBudgie, and Sanctuaria for following!**

* * *

 **5 A.M**

The alarm went off with a blaring noise that drilled itself into Bobbi and Maria's ears, rousing them out of a peaceful slumber. Bobbi flopped one arm out, seeking her alarm clock to shut it off. Finally, after several long seconds of fumbling, she slapped it off, nearly knocking it to the floor. Maria could be heard mumbling a few choice epithets before turning over and going back to sleep; Bobbi chose to do the same.

It was futile.

"Morse, Hill, up and at 'em!" May pounded on the door, startling both girls out of their attempt to squeeze out five more minutes of sleep. "We've got an event to win today, and you two sure ain't going to win it by sleeping!"

"Five more _minutes,_ May," Bobbi complained, tugging her blanket over her head.

"Morse, in five minutes, you'd better be awake and dressed. The same goes for you, Hill. Or I'll put in thirteen more laps on the track."

"Fuck you, May," Maria groaned at the door as she stumbled out of bed, brushing her bangs out of her face. "I don't care if you're my SO, I still want to kick your ass." She reached out blindly to the bathroom door, sighing when she smacked her hand against the doorknob. "Morse, if I ever become director or something, no agent's waking up at 5AM."

Bobbi said nothing, just rolled out of bed and plopped straight onto the floor, where she remained, her arms and legs splayed out. "I'm never getting off this floor."

* * *

"So today we're going to run a few laps before we scope out the competition," May told them at breakfast later, Bobbi and Maria scarfing down their usual pancakes, fruit, bacon and numerous cups of coffee. "I want you two to get a good idea of how the competition looks before you have to race against them."

"And that required getting us up at five in the morning?" Bobbi asked, sipping her fifth cup of coffee. It'd wear off during practice, she knew, but by then, she'd be sufficiently awake enough to function. "I swear, it's like you _like_ torturing us, May."

"And we've already seen the competition," Maria added, trying to defend her friend. "The only way we'd have missed Red Room activity is if one of the other Americans was Red Room." She sighed and downed a bite of her pancakes. "Or if they've spread into China."

"Fourteen laps," May sighed finally, putting down her coffee. "And then we go scope out the competition. I managed to find out that we're running against the Germans. And they had to get a last-minute substitute, so you have _no_ idea what you're running against." When Bobbi and Maria groaned, she handed them another cup of coffee each. "Good luck. You're going to need it."

* * *

"Oh, look, there go the South Koreans," Bobbi remarked casually as they crossed the campus. "One of them gave me a jar of kimchi last week. I'm saving it for Coulson." She grinned. "He'll never know what hit him."

"Are you friends with _everyone_ in this competition?" Maria joked, only slightly protesting. "It's like when everyone's around you, they forget they're in the running to get a medal or something." Bobbi shrugged lightly, flicking a strand of blonde hair off of her jersey.

"People like me," she answered humbly. "And for the record, not _everyone_ likes me." She nudged Maria. "That Greek guy in the pool the other day seemed to have an eye for you. It's true!" she exclaimed as Maria turned bright red. "He's a catch, too. I can get you his number if you want."

"Barbara Morse, you are _insufferable,_ " Maria rolled her eyes as Bobbi smirked. "Although I wouldn't be protesting if you _did_ get me his number..." she singsonged, and the other girl waved a hand at her in affirmation. "You know who really needs a lay, though? May."

"I know," Bobbi said wistfully, looking over at her coach, trainer and SO. "How long d'you think it's been since she's had male company? Hell, how long d'you think it's been since she's had company that _wasn't_ us?"

"Too long," Maria answered, shaking her head. "Too damn long." She brightened. "Hey, is Coulson single?" This time, it was Bobbi who burst into laughter at the thought. "Look, you haven't seen them together," she protested. "They're _honestly_ the chummiest people around. I'm surprised she hasn't gotten with him yet."

"Morse, Hill, less talking, more moving," May called ahead of them. "And stop gossiping about me. I'm cranky, not deaf." Bobbi and Maria looked at each other in shock before hurrying to catch up with May, chagrin on their expressions.

* * *

"So do we have popcorn to go with this?" Bobbi joked as the three of them took their seats, the Germans beginning to warm up many rows below them. "After all, if it's going to be a show, gotta have _some_ entertainment."

"They don't know we're here," May said tersely, her eyes focused on the figures down on the track. "I had to bribe the man to get in. It was either that or knock him out, and I wasn't about to cause a global incident."

"Oh," Maria said suddenly as one of the German runners stretched out, her ponytail falling over her shoulder and hitting the track. "She's flexible." A man (presumably the coach) blew his whistle, and the woman burst around the track, nearly a blur as she completed the turn in less time than thought possible. "And damn, she's fast."

As the coach blew his whistle again, another man broke into an all-out sprint around the track, this time leaping over hurdles as if they were nothing. By the time he'd crossed the first one, the woman had already completed a lap, not looking out of breath at all.

"Holy shit," Bobbi said in awe. "We gotta make our conditioning programs like that, May. They're fast. Would come in handy for extraction some day." She squinted as the man cleared the hurdle by almost a foot. "That man had better be tall as fuck. It's the only excuse I'll accept." _She_ was tall, for God's sake, and she could only clear a hurdle by six inches, much less a foot.

"Aren't you two glad I made you two come along today?" May asked, looking at her two proteges knowingly. "You wouldn't have known what you were up against if you hadn't."

" _Fine,_ May, you were right," Maria acknowledged, clapping sarcastically. "Do imbue us with your other knowledge, O Great One."

"Well, I don't want to sound egotistical, but I know that Greek's got his eye on you. I saw him in practice," May was grinning cheekily as Maria's jaw dropped open, working furiously to find a response. Bobbi burst into laughter.

"What - how even - _May!_ "

* * *

"Let's get it done," Bobbi called to Maria later that night, as they roars of the crowd filled the stadium. "I want to go home and have a cheeseburger. No more of this fruit and shit, I want _real_ food." She touched her swinging ponytail one more time to check that it was in place - it wouldn't do well to have her hair tumbling out while she was dashing through the lap.

"Damn right," Maria answered, lacing up her neon orange sneakers. Both of them wore identical black tanks, a small American flag stitched onto each shoulder. "These pancakes here are just _awful._ Once we get home, I want IHOP. ASAP. Screw debriefing."

"Morse, Hill, you two ready?" May asked as she came into the locker room. Instantly, both girls straightened up, striding over to their coach. "This is the moment we've been preparing for," she began softly, sombering the mood. "You two have stretched, run and jumped for this race, and now that we're right where we want to be, we're going to grab this win with both hands and take it back home. It's more than just about SHIELD right now. Right now, it's about doing something for our country. And you are going to run remembering that. But, no matter what happens, I want you to know this." May's eyes glimmered with determination, a hard look set on her face. "No matter whether you win or lose, whether you win a gold medal or you win nothing, _whether the Germans kick your asses or not,_ I. Am. Proud of you both."

"May," Bobbi muttered emotionally, sweeping her coach into a hug. Maria joined, and soon the three of them were crushing each other in an embrace.

"Now, go out there and kick their asses," May vowed as they broke apart. "I believe in you."

" _And now, for Team USA, Barbara Morse. Maria Hill."_ A loud roar could be heard after the announcement of their names - apparently Bobbi and Maria had gained quite the fanbase. Both girls strode out onto the track, squinting at the bright lights that lit the artificial turf. As they strode up to the Germans, their expressions hardened, shaking their opponents' hands with determination. _"Runners, to your starting lines."_

The referee handed Maria a bold, blue baton as she took her place at the starting line, and Maria grinned, holding it out for Bobbi to see. Blue had always been their lucky color.

"Marks," the referee barked, and Maria crouched down, her foot poised on the starting block. The referee blew their whistle, and she was off like a shot, leaning forwards to gain the most momentum. The roar of the crowd faded to a dull roar as her feet pounded the track, the only sounds her breath in her ears. As she grew closer to the line, she saw Bobbi ready, her hand out to receive the baton. The baton spun counterclockwise in the air as Maria threw it, landing squarely in Bobbi's palm as she raised her hand and began to sprint.

Bobbi threw everything she had into her lap, barely looking up once as she rounded the curve. Her eyes flickered upward, catching a flicker of red, and she slowed a bit, if only to catch it once more. _Was that...?_ No. It couldn't be. As if proving her point, the pants of the German runner sounded behind her, and, cursing to herself, Bobbi sped up once more, throwing her feet further into the ground. An overthrow handoff to Maria, and her teammate was off once more, leaving Bobbi to reflect on what she might have just seen.

 _It_ couldn't _have been. After all, it's not like she's...no. That's not her._ Bobbi's eyes inexplicably drifted back up to the crowd, however, searching for the telltale glint of red that had caught her eye earlier. _Where was it...?_

"Bobbi!"

Maria's voice didn't register immediately in her head at first, she was so distracted. "BOBBI!"

It was at that point she realized that the German runner had indeed passed her, was starting on their final lap. "THOR IT!" Bobbi shouted, immediately crouching into position, holding her hand out. The baton flew into her hand just like it had in practice, and she took off, the wind rushing in her ears. The cheers of the crowd intensified as she streaked by, willing her feet to go faster.

She hadn't realized she'd crossed the finish line until she was already halfway around another lap, the crowd laughing good-naturedly as she came to a stop. Maria came racing up to her, screaming about a gold medal and first place, but it barely registered as Bobbi swept the crowd once more for the glimpse of red that had caused her so much trouble.

There she was, her bright red hair hidden behind her hood, but there nonetheless. She shot Bobbi a wan smile when Bobbi's eyes caught hers, managing a small wave before melting away into the crowd. Bobbi kept staring at the spot where she'd been long after she left, only tearing her eyes away when Maria asked her what she was looking at.

"I think she was here," Bobbi answered quietly, her voice muted.

"Who?"

"Natalia," Bobbi's heart swelled a tiny bit at the thought of her friend having shown up, braving the consequences despite the trouble she would have to face if she was caught. "She was here, Maria. I swear."

May pursed her lips, looking worried for her young protege. "Don't get too attached to her, Bobbi," she warned her softly.

"Remember, the raid's in three hours."

* * *

 **How was your week? I want to know - y'all are just really great...even though it's a small number of you...so let me know in your reviews! :)**


	4. A Choice

**"Never get attached to people you don't really know. They always leave you." -this week's advice**

 **Shoutout to devil-in-training, LostintheDarkEyesandSoul, beverlie4055, Ninja0404 is a fanfiction geek and BookwormBudgie for following!**

* * *

The moon rose through the frosted air, hovering over a small cluster of tents. People seemed to be running back and forth between the groups, their breaths small puffs of smoke that burst into the air. Amidst the tents was a large, black plane, an eagle insignia printed over the top.

"Bobbi, have you seen my extra ammo?" Maria shouted across the courtyard among the rushing throngs of agents. Bobbi frowned, scanning the shelves for any sort of ammo, shaking her head when she found none. "Dammit!"

"Here, take mine," May said quickly, sliding a box of bullets to her. "Knowing Coulson, I probably won't need it." On the other side of the courtyard, Bobbi was nervously twirling her staves, her normally pretty face pulled into a grimace of concern.

"Locked and loaded?" one of the scientists asked her, and she just nodded, grateful for the small distraction. One of the batons slipped and fell from her hand, and she bent to the ground to pick it up. "Ready in fifteen, Agent Morse."

"I hate this," Bobbi admitted to Maria as she wandered over to the two of them, neatly stowing her staves in her sheath. "Something's off about this op, Maria. I'm sure of it." Maria nodded understandingly, examining her friend with concerned eyes.

"When it comes to it, if you have to, make the right call," she advised her friend gently, and Bobbi knew she wasn't just talking about having to kill someone. "Even if it goes against the protocols. I want to see her make the right decision just as much as you do."

"All agents ready to deport!" Coulson called from the head of the pack, and Bobbi and Maria fell into the stream of agents heading to the plane. "Wheels up in five!"

"That's my line," May muttered, and Bobbi had to stifle a chuckle. "We're going to have _words_ about that, Phil."

"There are five entrances to the building," Coulson called over the gathered mass of agents after they'd landed. "There'll be five teams, each of them led by a point agent. May, Sitwell, Garrett, Hand and I."

"I want Morse and Hill." May's voice left no room for discussion, and Coulson sighed, as if he'd known this argument was coming. Bobbi and Maria just sighed, knowing what was coming next. It happened every time.

"May, you had them last time," Victoria Hand complained, her hands on her hips. "Coulson said that I could have Morse and HIll this time."

"Vic, you had them that time you raided the stronghold in Lima," John Garrett pointed out. "Isn't it my turn to have them?"

"Lima counted as five," Jasper Sitwell argued. "I haven't had them since '03."

"Hey!" Bobbi barked out, and they fell silent, turning to look at her. " _They_ are in the room with you," She glared at them all, her arms crossed. "Maria and I are with May. End of discussion." Each of the leaders looked slightly ashamed of themselves. "If we're done objectifying women, we have a mission to carry out."

"May, you'll enter from the left side. Sitwell, the right, Hand, the front. Garrett, you're on point in the back. My team'll enter from the roof. Any more questions?" Coulson asked. When no one answered, he nodded resolutely. "Good. And remember, take in as many people as you can. Our goal is to _eliminate_ the Red Room, not give it room to regrow. Ready?"

"Break!" Maria shouted, and they all dispersed. Maria and Bobbi both took point behind May as she led her team to the side door. They all gathered around her to see what she had to say - May had consistently been voted as 'best pep talker' for the last three years.

"Remember, non-lethal force if you can," May threatened quietly, her gaze hard. "I don't want to have to shoot anyone for insubordination, but I won't be above it. Get in, get out, and most of all, don't die. I've had the least casualties in a group for five years straight." She kicked in the door. As the alarms blared to life, she gave them all one last look. "You all have your trackers. Whoever tags the most people gets a raise."

* * *

Bobbi and Maria entered the Russians' Olympic dorm, guns out and on alert. Her gaze falling on a door, Maria looked at Bobbi, who nodded and took point as Maria kicked open the door. A determined Russian man met them on the other side, a gun pointed at them. Maria wasted no time as she knocked him out, perhaps employing more bullets than was necessary. When Bobbi gave her a questioning look, she said, "He was pretty fat. I didn't know if I needed a higher dose."

More than once, one or the other would spot an enemy, and they would duck as a barrage of bullets rained over their head, both of them returning fire in perfect synchronization. There was a reason they were both on May's team - after all, she wouldn't have taken anything but the best.

They moved through several hallways in this manner, systematically clearing out rooms and hallways one by one. Sometimes, they'd pass another one of their team and shout numbers at them, cursing under their breath when they heard totals higher than theirs.

Sometimes, all of their humor would fade away, however, when they would kick open a door, only to find several young, terrified girls, apparently abandoned as the adult presence in the room had escaped. Most of them were cuffed to the bed, some whimpering as Bobbi and Maria would rush to get them unattached, Maria directing them to the nearest fire exit while Bobbi scanned the room for any more potential threats.

It was with heavy hearts that they ascended to the last floor, Bobbi cursing as they came to a fork in the hallway. "This wasn't in the blueprints."

"No," Maria sighed, looking at her friend. "You take right, I'll take left?" Bobbi nodded, not bothering to verbalize an answer, and the two of them split. She warily pivoted her firearm from side to side, cautious of anyone that would try to jump her. In the back of her head, she wondered if anyone had run into Natalia - or if she'd used the distraction to escape.

Suddenly, a figure in black flew at her, nearly knocking Bobbi's gun out of her hands. Quickly sheathing her gun, Bobbi traded it for her staves, which she aimed at her attacker as she went in for a roundhouse kick. Her attacker parried it easily, and the two of them exchanged blows on and on, neither of them exactly gaining an edge. Bobbi's staves flew, whirls of silver as they fought off what seemed to be a _very_ familiar style of attack.

Too familiar, in fact. "Natalia?"

Natalia stopped, shock and confusion written on her face as she recognized Bobbi for the first time. "Barbara."

"Наталия." The click of a gun sounded, and both Bobbi and Natalia turned in unison, their weapons firing in sync at the man who'd come upon them. He fell to the ground with a _thud_ , and Natalia turned to Bobbi.

"You are SHIELD." Natalia dropped the fact quietly, raising an eyebrow at Bobbi. Suddenly ashamed, Bobbi nods, her staves falling to her sides.

"I am."

"I should be attempting to kill you right now."

"And so should I," Bobbi answered with a rueful smile. "And yet, we just killed a man together. Funny how things work out sometimes, doesn't it?" She extended her hand to Natalia. "Come with us," she suggested. "Come with SHIELD. We'll give you a better life that isn't all of this. That isn't torture and fighting for your life."

"Is that not the danger associated with all intelligence agencies?" Natalia joked, cracking a brief smile. It quickly faded, however, as she probed Bobbi with curious green eyes. "Why are you trusting me, Barbara?"

Bobbi stops, uneasy. "There's something about you," she says finally. "Something different that isn't mindless obedience to the Red Room. You're different from all of the other girls. You're not with them out of allegiance. There's a vitality to you, Natalia. And you look like you're not ready to lose it just yet."

"I could kill you," Natalia whispered. "And not feel a single shred of remorse." Still, Bobbi remained stoic, the only sign of her thoughts in the swirling of her staves. Around them, the alarms rang, but the two of them just stood there, holding desperate faith that the other wouldn't make the first move.

"Kill me, then," Bobbi whispered, looking Natalia dead in the eye. She knew the other girl wouldn't do it - or, at least, _hoped_ she wouldn't - and even stilled her batons, their motions coming to firm stops in her hands. Natalia didn't flinch, just stared at Bobbi unwaveringly back.

Their face-off continued.

Bobbi could hear the sounds of gunfire in the background, could hear the victorious shouts of victory in the background, could almost _taste_ the success in the air. She knew that Maria (and consequently, May) would probably kill her for having such low totals, but for all it was worth, she couldn't really care at the moment.

Her eyes shifting back and forth, Natalia finally nodded, holding out her hand for Bobbi to shake. "Take me with you." she said finally. Bobbi just nodded mutely. "I trust you, Barbara - not as an ally, but as a friend."

"Just because we're friends doesn't mean I won't hesitate to kill you if you turn against me," Bobbi warned, setting her staves back in motion. Natalia laughed.

"I would do the exact same," she promised, tilting her head in acknowledgement. "After all, in this line of work, one does have to be careful of those willing to do anything to get ahead." A man came around the corner, and Bobbi fired off several shots over Natalia's head, forcing her to duck. "Thanks," she said when she got up.

"No problem," Bobbi said a little breathlessly, kicking the door to the stairs open. "It's what friends do." Giving Natalia one last look, she hopped over the stairwell and took the easy way down three flights of stairs, slicing gracefully through the gap of the winding staircase. Natalia just stared in amazement before chuckling and taking the stairs, one by one. About a quarter of the way down, she heard a soft _click,_ signaling that Bobbi had, at the very least, made it to the bottom without dying. "I'm never doing that in these boots again."

"Well-learned advice," Natalia chuckled as she finally arrived next to Bobbi. They heard the slight _click_ of a gun, and turned in synchronization, bullets firing at nearly the same trajectory. "If we ever have the time, I challenge you to a round of shooting,"

"I'm keeping you to that," Bobbi answered with a wry smile, letting it sit before dropping it. "Look, when we walk out that door, I can't promise you SHIELD is going to welcome you with open arms."

Natalia's own smile dropped, and for the first time since they'd come to blows, she sounded unsure of herself. "What do you mean? SHIELD is looking for Red Room agents to give them information, are they not?"

"SHIELD has an... _interesting_ way of what they call information gathering," Bobbi deadpanned, and Natalia could tell from the roll of her eyes that she wasn't necessarily in favor with the organization this time. "I just want you to be ready," she explained worriedly. "They're going to have questions upon questions for you. I'll try to do what I can to get you out of there, I'm friends with May, but..." She looked sheepish. "If you want to walk away right now, I won't blame you."

"No," Natalia squared her shoulders, her expression resolute. "I need to face the music." She looked at Bobbi, nodding. "Let's go."

Bobbi sighed, and brought up her weapon, timidly opening the side door that they'd come in.

"HANDS IN THE AIR!"

* * *

 **So will they shoot, or won't they? That's the question, I guess...**

 **Be sure to review! (if you wanted to give me a nice, free, late Christmas gift! :D)**


	5. Masters of Killing and Nicknames

**Shoutout to Worms in Books and The Gothic Geek for following!**

* * *

"What the _hell_ were you thinking, Morse?" May paced up and down the conference room where she'd instantly pulled Bobbi in after the initial arrest. "Bringing in Romanova like that! She could've killed you!"

Bobbi is sitting at the end of the long table, unable to look at her SO. "I know," she whispered softly. "But I _had_ to, May. You've got to understand that. They would've found her and killed her if I hadn't taken her with me."

"But telling her you're SHIELD? Promising her asylum? You know those aren't things we can promise." May sighed, plopping into a seat next to Bobbi. "I trust your judgement, Bobbi, and you know Phil does too - but you just brought a Russian into SHIELD politics. The Red Room's going to come after her. She could have been trained for this very moment. There's a lot of unknowns."

"But it's not _like_ that!" Bobbi burst out, angry. May jolted up, surprised. "She _wanted_ to get out, May. She told me so. She said she was only going to stick with them as far as the Olympics, and then make her escape." Bobbi's frustration simmered, but she had to hold back. If not for her own sake, then for May's. "She's _not_ a sleeper agent. I can promise you that. And if she is, then go ahead and kill me, because then I'm completely useless."

"Barbara Morse," May scolded, lightly swatting Bobbi upside the head. "Don't you _dare_ tell me you're useless again, because you are one of the most promising agents this agency has seen. I watched you from the Academy, and I'm sure as hell not going to give up on you now. Don't give me a reason to."

Bobbi stopped, not wanting to upset May even further. "I'm sorry, May. But I believe Nat-Natalia isn't who you think she is."

"We'll be the ones to determine that," May assured her. "Until then, Fury recommended you be placed on probation until this whole thing gets sorted out."

Bobbi's stomach dropped. _Her,_ placed on probation? She'd never been disciplined for anything in her entire life! "You mean...I can't go out in the field?" Being out in the field was what had prompted Bobbi to put herself through Ops after she'd graduated from Sci-Tech. It was her second love - after her love for science. If she wasn't allowed to go out in the field..."But...but..." Tears sprang to her eyes. "How long am I on probation?"

"Three months," May answered gently, seeing that her young charge was taking the loss of field duties hard. "I'll make sure Maria gets a suitable replacement, and that you're not _completely_ out of the loop concerning Romanova."

"Don't put her with Barton," Bobbi warned. "You know she _hates_ Barton." As May stood up to leave, she stuttered out one more question. "May..." When May turned to look back, she asked shyly, "How...how is she?"

May's expression softened. They both knew who she meant. "She's alright, for now. Fury's interrogating her."

"He's going to let me visit her, isn't he?"

May stopped. She didn't want to disappoint Bobbi, but she looked fragile, so different from her usual spirited demeanor..."I don't know, Bobbi," she sighed, turning back around to give Bobbi a hug. "But I'll try and find out for you as soon as possible."

"Thanks, May." As she stood up, Bobbi towered over May, but that didn't seem to matter as she hugged the older agent. "Thank you for everything."

* * *

"What is your full name?"

Natalia eyed the tall, dark man with an eyepatch suspiciously. She didn't trust him by any means, but if it meant the peace Barbara had promised her... "Natalia Alianova Romanova."

The man nodded. "And your country of origin?"

"Russia. My parents died in a fire when I was four."

"How did you come to join the Red Room?"

Natalia paused. There were several stories of how she'd come to join the Red Room shifting around in her head, all of them hammered into her head over the years and none of them seemingly more true than the other. She decided to go with the simplest answer: "I do not know."

The man stopped and turned to look at her. His face was marred, Natalia decided, with too many scars than she dared ask about. "What do you _mean,_ 'you don't know'?"

"I. Do. Not. Know." A flash of irritation surged through Natalia. When she _said_ she didn't know, she truly didn't know. "I was promised asylum by Barbara Morse," she gritted out, crossing her arms. "I have not seen any of that yet, and I refuse to speak until I talk to her."

"You don't get to make the negotiations here, Miss Romanova," the man reminded her. "We can just as easily turn you out as we took you in." Natalia let out an amused laugh.

"You can, but I know that you will not," she informed him. She knew they wouldn't - she had already seen too much, and held information that was far too valuable to simply let pass by. "I want to speak to her."

"Whether you get to speak to Agent Morse or not is not up to you," the man argued loftily. "Agent Morse made a mistake bringing you in without permission, and she will be punished accordingly." Natalia froze. Barbara had been punished for bringing her in? She hadn't heard about that. "I take it she never told you," the man said, and Natalia shook her head. "It wasn't in her orders to bring you in. In fact, it was completely contrary against her orders to leave you conscious at all, so yes, she _will_ be punished for her actions."

"She never meant to harm anyone for it," Natalia pleads. She couldn't have another life on her conscience. Especially not Barbara's, not when she'd seemingly risked so much to ensure Natalia would live a life free from on the run. "Please do not kill her. If you must, kill me." If Barbara coming to harm meant Natalia not having a chance to sleep again, she would rather it end all right there.

The man's eyebrows lifted, and he took a step forward. "That's an interesting thing to say," he murmured. "What makes you say that, Miss Romanova?"

"I trust her." The statement came out blindly, and Natalia hastened to elaborate on her statement. "She trusts me. That I will not make some erroneous error. She trusts that I will not turn on her - something that I am not sure I will not do myself," she said, and she saw the man's eyes flash. "The Red Room has fail-safes in their trainees in case of emergencies," she whispered. "Right now, I am sure this qualifies as an emergency."

"And what would this fail-safe constitute?" the man asks simply.

"At best? A cold, calculated deception programming trained to get the subject out of danger," Natalia replied. "At worst, a murderous rampage that leaves no one alive."

"And how would we be able to tell that you're not... _programmed_ as of now?"

"You wouldn't." Natalia's voice is clipped. "But I have spent the last eight years learning to break these fail-safes, one by one. I _know_ when one is trying to take over, and it is not."

"Who says we can trust what you say?"

"You cannot," Natalia shrugged, looking the man dead in the eyes. " _I_ cannot. One must simply take a chance and hope it is the right one." They faced off for some time, before the other man turned to one of his associates.

"Coulson. Bring me Morse."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Agent Morse, Fury wants you in the interrogation room," Coulson announced he strode into the conference room. Bobbi looked up, tearful but surprised. At that, Coulson's heart softened a tiny bit, and he sat down next to the despondent agent. "You know that this is just a precaution, Bobbi."

"I got _three months!_ " Bobbi exclaimed, tears beginning to prick at her eyes once more. "What am I supposed to do with three months, Coulson? Sit around and file the paperwork Maria racks up? Prevent the sleazy tech guys from hitting on me? Not that I already don't do that, but still!" She wrung her hands in despair. "I need to be out in the field and you know it! _Three months,_ Coulson. I've never done anything wrong in my life!"

"They'll be over before you know it," Coulson consoled his young charge. "Now, come on. Fury wants to see you in the interrogation room."

"Probably to slap some more probation time on me," Bobbi muttered sullenly as she got up from the chair, following Coulson down the hallway. "He probably decided that three months wasn't enough for me, so he's slapping on some time in inventory with Sitwell or something," She shuddered. "I _hate_ inventory. Especially with Sitwell."

Coulson sympathized with her. He'd done it once himself - it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat. "If he does, I'll try and get you reassigned to inventory with me," he reassured her. "I don't think you've messed up _that_ badly."

Fury's stare met them both as they entered the conference room, Coulson with a murmured, 'Sir', and Bobbi refusing to look the director in the eye. "You wanted to see us?"

"It seems the only person Romanova will talk to is Morse," Fury explained, and Bobbi's head shot up. "You're still on three months probation," he warned her, and Bobbi's head drooped down. "But right now, our first priority is establishing that she isn't, nor will she be, a threat." He jerked his head, motioning for Bobbi to follow.

"I can't believe you're holding her like - like she's some kind of _prisoner_ ," Bobbi scoffed as they walked down the dim hallway. "She hasn't done a thing wrong since you forcefully arrested her." Fury turned to face her then, consternation on his face.

"The Red Room builds fail-safes into its agents. Did you know that, Agent Morse?" Bobbi shook her head, feeling small under his glare. "Miss Romanova has recently confessed to having an unknown fail-safe built into her that can be activated at any time. She could be a threat to this agency without even knowing yet. Does _that_ seem like caution should be taken?"

"Yes, sir," Bobbi murmured, feeling thoroughly chastised. "Sorry I questioned your decisions, sir." Fury didn't say anything in reply, but pushed open the door to the interrogation room.

Natalia's head snapped up at the sound of the door opening, her eyes widening at the sight of Bobbi. "Barbara?"

Bobbi winced internally as she ran towards her friend, grabbing her into a tight hug. It took everything Natalia had not to fight her way out of the embrace and throw Bobbi onto the ground, settling for an awkward return hug instead. "There's something I need to tell you," Bobbi grimaced.

Natalia stiffens. Barbara's about to get harmed - or worse. "What?" she whispered.

"It's not that bad, whatever you're thinking," Bobbi whispered reassuringly, patting Natalia on the back. "I only got three months, it could've been a _lot_ worse, trust me - but my name isn't Barbara."

 _That_ Natalia hadn't seen coming. "It is not?"

"Well," Bobbi cocked her head. "It is. But most people call me Bobbi." She grinned apologetically at Natalia. "Sorry I didn't tell you before. Figured it wouldn't have made a difference if you killed me, anyways."

"Oh," Natalia chuckled. "Well, I am still Natalia. No nickname." Her visage shifts to one of concern. "The three months you spoke of - was that the punishment the man over there said he was going to inflict on you?"

"Fury?" Bobbi asked incredulously, turning to look at him. "Nah, he's just a big teddy bear once you get to know him," she scoffed while Fury scowled at her. "But yeah, he's got me on three months administrative probation." She scowled. "Three months of having to deflect the nerds down in Tech again."

"I'm sorry," Natalia whispers. "I should not have gotten you into this position."

"Hey, it's alright," Bobbi whispers back. "Look, to me, it was either face three months of probation or constantly wake up with the knowledge you might be dead or worse. I made the different call, alright? And I don't regret it."

"But the controls," Natalia protested feebly. "I was not lying earlier: I could _kill_ you without remorse. I would not even be aware that it was you that I killed."

"We'll get you to sit the psych exam, alright? Dr. Garner's one of our best," Bobbi answered, turning to Fury with a steely look in her eyes. " _Right_?"

Even though she was three inches shorter than he was, Bobbi still never failed to make Fury flinch when she was dangerous. "She'll sit the psych exam first thing tomorrow."

"Thank you," Bobbi clipped out, turning back to Natalia. "Everything's going to be alright, Nat," she murmured. "Everyone's going to treat you handy-dandy, if I can help it, okay?"

"Nat?" Natalia asked, confused. No one had ever given a nickname before, and it felt...comforting. Like there was someone who actually cared about her for once. "Is that...is that what you prefer to call me?"

"Dammit," Bobbi whispered, slapping a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, it's just...it slipped. Forget it, really."

"No, I like it," Natalia warmed up to the nickname - perhaps she'd use it when she felt like slipping into another persona, one that wasn't touched by the Red Room or Russia. "I like the nickname. And you go by Bobbi, you said?"

"That's us," Bobbi joked. "Bobbi and Nat. Masters of killing and nicknames."

 **Please feel free to leave a review! :)**


	6. Loaded Questions

**Shoutout to Shatteredxo, Marish89, asikdar769, Spitfire303 and The Gothic Geek for following! :D Thanks to everyone who's leaving reviews! And to everyone who's not... *narrows eyes***

* * *

"Agent Morse," Andrew Garner noted, surprised when Bobbi trailed behind Natalia as she entered for her mandatory psychological exam. "I wasn't aware you would be accompanying Miss Romanova. You _are_ aware that this is a psychological examination, correct?"

"May says hi, and don't be late for dinner," Bobbi said flatly, and Garner opened his mouth once, twice, before shutting it and deciding that he'd be better off saying nothing. "Also, Fury wanted me to tell you that if you say anything that triggers her programming, don't be afraid to sedate her. Although, it won't come to that, will it, _Andrew_?" She smiled at him then, a cold glint in her blue eyes.

Garner shook his head rapidly. "No, ma'am...I mean, Agent Morse. They're simply common questions."

"Cool," she chirped. "I gotta run - Coulson hasn't debriefed yet, and he's ready to kill me - but Maria and I are coming to dinner tonight! See you then! Oh, and Nat," Bobbi paused, turning to her friend. "You're invited, too. Maria hasn't met you yet and she's positively _dying_ to see you in person."

Natalia smiled uncomfortably. "I'm not sure I'd be welcome,"

"Nonsense. You're my friend, you're coming. _Isn't she_?" Bobbi emphasized, glaring at Garner.

"Oh, yes, any friend of Agent Morse's is a friend of ours," he hastened, not wanting to cross a line with the younger agent. She'd trained under May, and anyone that'd trained under May knew how to kill someone thirty ways with their pinkie finger. He wasn't about to take his chances on whether Agent Morse had learned those yet. "You're plenty welcome at dinner, Miss Romanova. But first, this examination."

"I'll see you later, Nat," Bobbi promised before closing the door. "May makes a _mean_ steak." The door shut, and silence reigned as Natalia and Garner were left alone once more.

"So, Miss Romanova," Garner broke the silence first, shuffling his papers to find an appropriate questions. "I'll leave it up to you. Did you want to go through the standard questions first, or did you want to jump to the tougher questions?"

"Let's cut to the chase." Over the short time that she'd been with Bobbi, Natalia had already learned how to combine words into contractions - it'd been a part of her training, she'd explained to her friend - political diplomats were more likely to notice someone that used contractions. "What is it that your agency assumes of me?"

"We _suspect_ that there are leftover controls on your behaviors, Miss Romanova," Garner corrected her, flipping through his files. "According to the file, you were raised by the Red Room for the entirety of your life, correct?"

"That is correct."

"And there was...experimentation that was sometimes undesired."

"By which you mean they cut me open, injected serums, and caused irreversible damage to my ovaries?" Natalia answered unflinchingly, causing Garner to wince. "All before I was ten years old. Next question, Dr. Garner."

"You are aware that you have done some questionable things in the name of the Red Room. Things that prove a loyalty, things that would make someone wonder why you suddenly chose to go with Miss Morse that night."

"I am perfectly aware of that," Natalia nods. "I am also perfectly aware of the abuse the Red Room inflicted on myself - that they tortured me, insulted me, tried to shove a twisted version of history upon me." Her lips twisted into a grim smile. "I was smarter. The way the world operates is not that of how it was taught."

"Then you would be aware, then, of why we are still suspicious."

"Of course," Natalia snorted. "Do you think I would be such a fool to ignore the possibility that I am only here as a source of information? That once I have exhausted my supplies, I will be turned out like a dog no longer wanted?" Her eyes turned hard. "Then again, I am also aware that your agency feels that I could pose a threat as a sleeper agent. Is that wrong, Dr. Garner?"

Garner swallowed. "You're not wrong, Miss Romanova."

"Then I suggest you take one of the following two actions, Dr. Garner," Natalia suggested with relish. "One, you can decide to take me to your memory machine - which I know exists, by the way, it was stolen from our scientists by an American agency back in 2000, I just never knew which one - or you can continue with this meaningless line of questioning, of which will have no use. The memory machine will tell you everything, Doctor," she said. "Things that I would not be able to tell you even under the deepest duress."

"'Is willing to sacrifice self for sake of validation'," Garner wrote in his files, turning back to Natalia. "Well, Miss Romanova. I think we can agree that you are here voluntarily. No one agrees to go through the memory machine unless they're some sort of sadist, which I am sure Agent Morse has already told you she has vouched against. Now, you either have two choices."

"What are they?" Natalia asked, feeling some sense of foreboding.

"We can either put you through the memory machine now, and risk missing my wife's famous prime rib," Garner said lightly, shutting his file, "or we can go looking for Agent Morse, and she can familiarize you with the company you'll be seeing at dinner." He looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "It's your choice, Miss Romanova."

Slightly amused, Natalia opened the door, only to discover Bobbi had been leaning against it, one ear eavesdropping. As the solid surface fell away, she stumbled, nearly hitting the ground. "Bobbi," Natalia said to her, more amusement lacing her tone. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting to see if Andrew would tell you the secret to his chicken pot pie," Bobbi's voice floated up to Natalia's ears, muffled. "May's been after it for months. I thought he'd tell you, 'cause you're the only one who wouldn't sell it to her."

"Not this time, Agent Morse," Garner chuckled, moving past both girls. "Although I will see you both at 7?" Bobbi gives a thumbs-up. Natalia nods. "Remember, it's May's night. You know what that means." As he left, Bobbi let out a long-suffering groan.

"What?" Natalia asked, worried. "Is something wrong, Bobbi? Do you need a doctor or something?" Bobbi laughed; she was glad Natalia was so concerned, but she was a little _too_ concerned. She made a note to correct that.

"M' fine," Bobbi brushed her off, waving a hand. "I forgot, though," she said apologetically, getting to her feet and giving Natalia a long look. "May's cooking tonight, and May only wants one thing for the price of dinner."

"It's formal night."

* * *

"Guess how much I hate formal nights," Maria gritted out as she met Bobbi and Natalia in the hallway. "If it wasn't for May's prime rib, I'd be back home in sweatpants. With the newest copy of _Harry Potter._ I waited in line three hours for that thing."

"Oh, so _that's_ where you were when I had to cover for you," Bobbi teased as the three of them fell into step. "But hey, then I wouldn't get to do this." She gestured to Natalia. "Maria, Natalia Romanova. Nat, this is Maria. We went through the Academy together, got stuck with May together, and because of that, Maria is now the biggest pain in my ass _ever_." She jumped as Maria dug an elbow into her side. "You know it's true,"

"Hi," Natalia held out her hand nervously. "Natalia. Bobbi calls me Nat. I guess..I guess you could too?" Her hands were gloved, as she'd insisted were Russian tradition. Bobbi had finally acquiesced, handing Natalia a pair of long, white gloves she hadn't worn since her days in cotillion.

"Maria Hill," Maria didn't bat an eyelash as she took Natalia's hand. " _Not_ the biggest pain in Morse's ass, despite what she said. I have a feeling the two of us are going to get along _really_ well. By the way," she snapped her fingers as they headed towards the elevator. "your skills during the pommel horse and parallel bars? Amazing."

"You saw them?" Natalia asked nervously. "They weren't my finest practices, I missed a turn and didn't stick the landing completely..." Her fingers worried at the gloves, and Bobbi grabbed her arm gently to stop them.

"No, seriously, Nat, it was amazing!" Maria exclaimed. "I don't think I've seen anyone that's executed that level of skill that well!" Bobbi shot her friend a grateful look over Natalia's head, thankful that she was being inclusive. "People'll be using your routine as a method for _years_!"

Natalia laughed softly. "Thank you, Maria, but there's no need to flatter me."

"What's there to flatter?" Maria squawks. "You should've seen me when I tried to do a somersault at the last SHIELD holiday party - went right into a wall. Hand got it on tape and she won't _ever_ let me live it down. Ever. And that was just a _somersault._ Think about if I tried to do the things you did!"

Somewhere in her mind's eye, Bobbi saw Maria attempting to do a cartwheel in front of Fury. Snorting slightly to herself, she sorted the reminder away, making a note to actually be there when that happened.

"Agents Hill, Morse." May greeted them as soon as they stepped off of the elevator. "Miss Romanova." Her eyes grew slightly wider, but she didn't question it. "Melinda May," she said graciously, offering her hand like Maria had. "Supervising officer to Morse and Hill. Which, as you can probably tell," she said, sighing, "is a chore in itself."

Natalia smiled as Bobbi and Maria burst into protests. "It is a honor to meet you, Agent May. I wouldn't have expected Maria and Bobbi to come from any less but the best. Your husband also tells me that you are an amazing cook,"

"Oh, did he?" May jokes gently. "Andrew, you are _so_ in trouble for that!"

"Morse was the one who invited her! She tried to get my chicken pot pie recipe out of me!"

"And she didn't succeed," May sighed, guiding Natalia into the kitchen/bar. Andrew was wearing a fitting navy suit, and Natalia noticed for the first time that May was also decked out in a deep ruby dress that fell just above her knees. "Damn it. I've been trying to get everyone I could to get it. Food's up!" she called, and Bobbi and Maria came into the kitchen, bickering quietly about something or other.

"So, you're going into the machine tomorrow," Bobbi said abruptly a little while after the food was distributed. Natalia looked up from her rib in surprise while Maria choked on her drink. "Sorry," she said apologetically. "I was trying to see if he'd give you the recipe."

"You've apparently never heard of table etiquette," May deadpans scathingly, and Bobbi just rolled her eyes at her superior officer. "You don't _ask_ these sort of questions at the dinner table, Morse. Especially not after the food's just been served!"

"I had to know!" Bobbi defended. "If she goes in tomorrow, she needs a friend by her side!"

"It's alright," Natalia cut in quietly, stopping the argument. "Yes, I _am_ going into the machine tomorrow - Dr. Garner and I have both agreed that it would be beneficial to gaining information for SHIELD as well as clearing my mind from any fail-safes still embedded in my mind." Bobbi, May and Maria all looked at each other - this was the first time Natalia had referred to SHIELD by its proper name.

"I'm still going in with you," Bobbi declared. "No one should have to go through that thing alone."

"Oh, you don't have to," Natalia said suddenly. "I'm sure there are plenty of other things that you'd rather do during that time. It's honestly not going to be that interesting." She was clearly fighting the attention spotlight, Bobbi noticed. It was a clear sign of someone who'd been lacking in attention for most of their life.

She'd fix that. Soon.

"What, like terrorize May?" Maria snorted. "Yeah, no, Nat, I think May would appreciate the afternoon off for once." She turned to Natalia. "I swear she prank calls May every other week pretending to be Coulson confessing his love to her. You should've seen the first time she believed it." May scowled while Bobbi burst into laughter. "I think she got couch time."

"Coulson most definitely got a stern talking-to before I figured out it was Morse," Garner added, shaking his head. "The poor man was so confused I think he avoided me for a week." Natalia looked back and forth, confused at the clearly comfortable family dynamic. Such a concept was unfamiliar to her, and she wondered if she could ever earn herself a spot in one.

Given that the people she considered family were all the way across the world, there was a very slim chance she'd be returning to anyone close anytime soon. Yet, as she looked over this group she'd just met, that had interrogated her and come close to killing her, Natalia felt that maybe she'd rather get to know them better instead of returning.

Something felt off about using her skills to infiltrate them. It was something she'd used as a means to an end, not for her own personal satisfaction. But without those social skills, Natasha was left as bare as the desert. If she were to stay, she'd have to make friends on her own, without any of her training to rely on. Almost as if she was starting as someone new. But all things considered, wasn't that what she wanted?

"Well, May, I gotta say, you've outdone yourself," Maria said to May, dropping her fork against her plate with a loud _clang_. Garner looked at her with horror before gently putting his own down. "I think this one was almost worth dressing up for. Almost."

"I've been meaning to ask you," May said, her mouth full of green beans (Garner still looked properly horrified. Natalia thought that he seemed to be the only one with any sense of table manners). "How was the new _Harry Potter_?"

Maria scowled at May. "I haven't gotten a chance to read that yet, and you know it."

"Well, see, here's the thing..." May drags out the sentence, stabbing at her green beans again. "There's this thing about Sirius..."

"Noooooo!" Maria cried out in horror, slapping her hands over her ears. "I don't wanna hear it!" she announced childishly. She made an amusing sight, her expensive formalwear contrasting with her expression. "I don't wanna hear it, May!"

"I think that's our cue," Bobbi said, laughing. "It was great, May," she said honestly. She turned to Garner. "Andrew, you making chicken pot pie next week?"

"I've got my eye on you, mark my words," May threatened, making a gesture at her husband. She turned to Natalia. "Andrew and I will be there tomorrow, so there'll be no need to worry. Plus, I'm sure Morse'll have it under control."

"What about tonight?" The question burst from Natalia's lips, and she immediately shrunk back, wishing she could stuff the question into her mouth again. Everyone turned to look at her. "I'm sorry, just - just forget I said anything, really -"

"You didn't want to camp with us?" Realizing her mistake, Bobbi snapped her fingers. "Right. Forgot to tell you. Maria camps out with me every night after we have dinners. Usually we TP someone's office."

Natalia frowned. "TP?"

"Toilet paper?" A manic expression spreads its way across Bobbi's face. "Oh, Natalia, you have much to learn."

* * *

 **I'm aware this is filler. But I hoped you enjoyed all of their shenanigans! Leave a review, if you'd like!**


	7. Memories of a New Name

**Shoutout to babybosn and Ryaaaaann for following!**

* * *

"Morse, Hill, Romanova!" May rapped on their door, an exasperated grimace on her face as she heard the plaintive whines of the three women. "Up and at 'em!"

"Five more minutes, Ma -" Bobbi's daily plead for more sleep was cut off by a loud roar.

"MORSE! HILL!"

"Shit," Bobbi bolted up, instantly awake. "Coulson walked into his office."

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Nat?" Maria asked concernedly as she, Bobbi and Natalia walked down the hallway to Garner's office. Natalia was on her way to face her fate in the memory machine after an eventful morning involving getting to meet Coulson with a roll of toilet paper artfully draped over his head. "I can get Garner to postpone this if you're not, he's perfectly scared of me -"

"No, Maria, it's fine," Natalia assured her quietly. "I've seen what this thing can do. Believe me when I say I've been through worse." On either side of her, Bobbi and Maria exchanged looks of concern and sadness.

"If you're sure," Together, the three of them stepped into Garner's office, Bobbi and Maria flanking Natasha like a pair of mother hens.

"Morse. Hill. Miss Romanova," Gone was the casual demeanor Garner had had the night before, replaced with complete professionalism. "Are you ready to proceed?" Natalia nodded slightly, stepping forwards. "Agents Morse, Hill. If you two will take a seat outside," Bobbi and Maria opened their mouths, perhaps to protest, but at Garner's insisting look, they fell silent. "Agent May should be here any minute to assist me should things take an unfortunate turn."

All three women took that to mean 'extra alone time with May' silently.

"Sorry I'm late," May skidded in, barely in full tactical gear. "I had to deal with Coulson and his office." She shot a glare at Maria and Bobbi, missing their perfectly timed expressions of offense that Natalia hadn't been called out. "There was an..incident involving all of Fury's toilet paper." She gave Natalia a brief smile. "Are you ready?"

Natalia flashed a brief smile in return. "Just a moment, Agent May. If you and Dr. Garner can begin preparations in the room? I have a few words I'd like to exchange with Agents Morse and Hill." At the concerned look on everyone's faces, she rolled her eyes slightly. "I give you my word that I won't kill them."

"It's not you killing them I'm worried about," May said, amused. "I'm just worried they're going to try and convince you against this." Still, all the same, she and Garner went ahead into the machine room.

Maria couldn't help but twitch her hand to her gun.

"I'm not going to kill you, Maria," Natalia deadpanned. "Trust me, if there was anyone I'd kill, it'd be Morse," Bobbi raised an eyebrow. "But as my closest confidants, I have to ask you a favor."

"Do we have to kill anyone?" Maria asked automatically. At Bobbi's look, she shrugged. "You knew I was going to go after the whole of Russia, anyways."

"That is exactly what I'm asking you not to do," Natalia answered quietly. "If, for some reason, I don't emerge from the memory machine sane or alive, please don't go after anyone. The whole of Russia is big, and the Red Room has the government eating out of the palm of their hand. For your sakes, Barbara, Maria - don't go after them. Please."

"We won't have to go after anyone," Bobbi vowed after a moment of silence. "Nat, you're going to come out of this just fine, okay?" She took her friend's hand, squeezing it once. "May and Andrew are going to take care of you. And when you're done, we'll go try and TP Fury's office."

Bobbi's promise was nonchalant, but made Natalia tear up slightly as she gave a small sniff, and instantly, the tall, blonde agent was embracing her. Bobbi gave good hugs, Natalia noted, and made a note to ask for them more often. Maria, slightly upset at being left out, joined in, patting Natalia's shoulder when they broke apart. "See you on the other side, Romanova."

Natalia nodded slightly. "You too, Hill."

* * *

"Now, remember, once you go under, there's no pulling you out," Garner warned as Natalia stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. The sterile metal of the memory machine loomed behind May and Garner, a soft blue light already pulsing from the machine's head. "I'm not sure how much experience you have with this thing, but I'm going to reiterate that it's quite painful,"

"As I have already assured Agents May, Morse and Hill, I've seen worse," Natalia insisted softly, quietly irritated at everyone's insistence to protect her. Hadn't she been under acute suspicion merely weeks ago? And now everyone was treating her as if she was some sort of long-lost heir to a throne. She took a deep breath. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Garner motioned for her to climb in, and Natalia shivered as the cold metal hit her back, the blue light bathing her face. "I'm going to start the process now," Garner said, moving over to a control panel just beyond her vision. "If you attempt to engage in combat, May will have no problem disarming and disposing of you properly." His voice was cold, and Natalia had the nagging suspicion that to him, all she was was a mountain of evidence.

"I won't unless it's absolutely necessary," May said resolutely, and she relaxed a little, knowing that at least _one_ person was on her side. Taking another deep breath, Natalia closed her eyes, preparing for what was to come.

There was a violent pull at the forefront of her mind, and suddenly, everything she'd ever thought of - every memory, every moment, every dream - was suddenly playing back in vivid Technicolor in front of her eyes. The cold, bitter days of her childhood in the streets, from the fire that had taken her parents as a girl to begging for even the slightest morsel of bread. Endless reels of her torture in the Red Room. The countless cracks of a whip echoed in her ears, mingling with the sound of a bullet racing through still, sharp air to embed itself into a target. Her hands shaking when she'd first done it, the tears involuntarily running down her cheeks before they were slapped away by a cruel, unforgiving instructor.

Somewhere during the montage of blood, gore and metal, Natalia detected a haunting interlude - Swan Lake, perhaps? She hadn't the faintest idea why they'd chosen _that_ to overlay the hidden memories in her head; perhaps because it represented some sort of triumphant victory that was also gory at the same time? She didn't have much time to dwell on it before her memories assaulted her once more: of a marriage gone awfully wrong, of a husband she was supposed to have loved and had supposedly died serving his country. Of a strange man with a metal arm who'd sparred with her in the early hours; was she supposed to have loved him as well?

She saw the gracefully polished wooden floors of a dance studio, of a worn-out piece of wood grasped by hundreds of gentle hands. There's a short, redheaded instructor in the corner at the junction between the wall of mirrors and a large, black stereo, seemingly shouting out orders as the girls rise up en pointe in unison, executing jumps and turns that made Natalia's head spin. She saw an opening night, a performance of _The Nutcracker_ that had had her as their main lead, being bewildered by the applause and praise, something she'd never had before.

She saw the stiff, unyielding surface of an operating table, shackles that were used told her down, a sharp scalpel that flashed once, twice, before plunging into her stomach and sending out a spurt of blood. The stabbing pain that resonated in Natalia's stomach was cold and unforgiving, and she heard her mouth give out a loud, ear-piercing scream. She thought she heard voices, frightened ones that made her want to assure whoever was there that it was alright, that they weren't being harmed, that it was her...

May immediately leapt to her feet when she heard Natalia scream, her body seizing off of the table and her normally bright green eyes rolling into the back of her head. Breathing heavily, she pointed her gun at the thrashing body, ready to discharge any number of bullets in it at any time. When Natalia showed no sign of attacking, she slowly lowered her gun, still wary.

Outside, Natalia's scream sent chills down Bobbi and Maria's spine, and they looked at each other, eyes wide. Bobbi had half a mind to dash into the room and grab her friend, despite whatever consequences might occur because of it. She couldn't just leave her there like that, Bobbi mused. She'd sworn as an agent of SHIELD to protect people from harm. Even if that harm was of their own doing.

She tensed, however, when she heard the frenzied words emanating from the door. "Please...kill me...please..."

Garner cast a panicked look at May, frantically reading the controls on his screen. "She's almost through the process. If she could just hang on for another half minute or so -!"

 _"KILL ME!_ "

"MAY, OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!" At the exclamation, Bobbi had shot out of her chair, racing over to the glossy wooden door and pounding her fist against it. Damn to hell whatever information SHIELD thought they were going to get out of her. Natalia was her _friend,_ goddammit, and Bobbi hadn't brought her in just to see her get killed. Bobbi pounded on the door again. "I SWEAR TO GOD, MAY, OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR OR I'M KICKING IT IN!" Maria just stood behind Bobbi, not wanting to provoke the blonde's vicious temper. She knew very well Bobbi was capable of kicking the door open - it was simply a matter of whether she wanted to pay for damages or not.

May wrenched open the door, severe calm on her face. "There's ten seconds left," she said lowly. "Get your ass in here before I change my mind." Bobbi stormed in, hurrying over to the machine, forcing herself not to reach out and punch it off. _I'm so sorry, Nat,_ she mentally apologized, clenching her fists to prevent reaching out to her friend. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, steeling herself. _You are_ not _crying, Morse._

"It's over!" Garner announced, and Bobbi took another deep breath to keep herself from stalking over and dealing Garner a good decking. One, May would probably kill her for it, and two, the assault would probably earn her an awful long suspension, possibly termination. She wasn't about to risk that. Still, she hovered worriedly over Natalia as the redhead slumped back onto the table, her breathing beginning to even out.

"Nat?" Bobbi asked cautiously after several tense minutes. "Nat, are you alright?"

Natalia was silent for a few moment before she groggily opened her eyes. "Barbara? Tha' you?"

"Oh, thank god," Bobbi exhaled. She was so relieved at Natalia's condition, she'd missed that Natalia had called her 'Barbara'. "You're alright, Nat, see? It's all good, and Andrew got everything he needed, and even if he didn't, you sure as _hell_ aren't going through that again..."

"It was fine," Natalia groaned. "But there's just one thing I want."

"Name it."

Natalia paused slightly before looking up at Bobbi. "I want a new name."

* * *

"For the last time, Maria, I'm not renaming myself Cleopatra," Natalia sighed, rolling her eyes as Maria snickered in the background. They'd been a few days into the process of helping Natalia choose a new name, and the aforementioned agent had suggested only names of gods and goddesses.

Bobbi had nearly thrown Maria out the window when she'd mentioned Natalia renaming herself after Persephone.

"Okay, so you want a name that reminds you of the old you, but not entirely of the old you," Bobbi looked up from a spiral notebook where she'd been jotting down names. There were several cross-outs in both pen and pencil (Natalia had spent an entire afternoon crossing out particularly outlandish names, much to Maria's displeasure.) across many pages. "We're down to three names, Nat."

"Okay," Natalia stretched out on the couch beside Bobbi, setting her feet out and entangling them with her friend's. "What've we got?"

"So you can be Natalie, Natasha, or Nellie." Bobbi frownd. "Please don't be Nellie. It makes you sound like a senior citizen." Natasha shook her head emphatically, and Bobbi reached for her pencil, crossing the name out forcefully.

"Natalie's too close to Natalia," Natalia answered, crossing out the second name. "So...Natasha. Hm." She rolled the name around in her mouth. "Natasha. _Natasha._ I like it."

"Then there's still the matter of your last name," Bobbi reminded her. "There's Romanov, Romano, Romanoff. 'N I don't see you as an Italian. Not unless you become part of the mob."

"I like Romanoff," the other girl decided quietly. "Natasha Romanoff. Kind of has a ring to it. It's not bad, considering we started with Persephone Putin." Maria huffed, offended. "That's just offensive to Russia, Maria, and you know it."

"Then Natasha Romanoff it is," Bobbi raised her water bottle, clinking it with Maria and the newly-renamed Natasha. "To Natasha Romanoff."

"Natasha Romanoff. Kicking ass and taking names."

"Now let's go see Coulson," Maria relished, downing her water. "I'm sure he'd _love_ to find out that the girl that got us through his security system is Russian."

* * *

 **It would be lovely if you left a review! I want to hear what you think, or what scenes you'd want to see included!**


	8. To Become an Agent, Beat Up Men

**Shoutout to KarolRodrigues, Red Sonja 88 and CBSlave737 for following!**

* * *

Bobbi's alarm went off at an unpleasant hour that morning, and she resisted the urge to shoot it just like she had with all of the other ones. She stumbled slowly out of her bed, muttering the entire time while attempting to fix the bird's nest that had become her hair. It'd been that way since she was little, and no amount of conditioner the night before would fix it. (She'd tried. Many times.)

Still only about half awake, she wrenched open the door, intent on meeting May for their daily session of tai chi, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Natasha stood there, her expression patient. She wasn't sure how long exactly her friend had been standing there, but judging by the bored look on her face...

"How long you been here, Romanoff?"

"Anyone ever tell you you snore loudly enough to mimic a jet engine, Morse?" Natasha snorted back. "I'm getting Maria earplugs for the next time you two are stuck on a mission together." Bobbi rolled her eyes. She wasn't marrying anyone, so she might as well snore as loud as she damn well pleased.

"Well, with my probation, you're more likely to get sent on one than me," The two of them fell into step. May had taken it as a personal mission to train Natasha herself - she'd sparred against Natasha yesterday, narrowly beating the Red Room trainee. (Coulson had only lamented for a minute before handing money over to a gleeful Maria.) "Since you almost beat May, she seems to think you'll be ready in a day or two. Just pass the arms testing and you can take the exam."

"Doesn't matter if Agent May thinks I can pass the exam, there seems to be a load of arrogant asses who think I can't," Natasha scowled as a male agent passed by, letting out a wolf whistle. Bobbi gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to shoot who she knew was someone higher ranking than she was.

"Don't worry about them, they're just a bunch of idiots that couldn't tell a telephone pole from a fishing rod," she said to Natasha, sighing as she shot an agent who'd had the audacity to yell 'lookin' good, babe!' the middle finger. "Trust me, you'll learn to avoid them eventually. You impress May, Coulson or Fury, they'll probably even turn around while you beat the idiot into the ground."

"And you haven't yet?" Natasha asked as they endured another round of cat-calling through the hallway. "You're on pretty good terms with Agent May, it seems like."

"Well," Bobbi answers briefly as she clenches her fists in frustration. "We are. Coulson, too. But Fury's not so impressed with me at the moment. One out of three, I suppose."

"Hey, Morse, who's the whore you hired for May? You two finally decide to expand into a threesome?"

"Alright, that's it!" Before Natasha could stop her, Bobbi lunged at the agent who'd made the remark, no holds barred as she rained blow after blow on the offender's face. "Don't - you - _dare_ \- call - Nat - a - whore -"

"What's going on?" May, having heard the commotion, hurried into the hallway to see Bobbi whaling away at the man, trading a look with Natasha as they both watched. She took a glance at the agent in question. "Is Agent Mathers being an asshole again?"

" _He called Nat a whore, May!"_ Bobbi shouted from her tussle on the floor.

May cocked an eyebrow. "Let's start your training early, Miss Romanoff," she said curtly. "I'm sure Agent Morse can take care of herself." With that, the two of them turned, leaving Bobbi to exert the extent of her fury out on the offending agent.

"Good," she said maliciously, pulling her fist back from Mathers momentarily. "I've got May's approval, she'll convince Coulson, and Fury's no match for the two of them. You're going down."

* * *

"How bad did you hurt him?" May called as Bobbi entered the training room some time later, an ice pack cradled in her hand. She was in the middle of an intense match with Natasha, sweat pouring down her forehead as she traded blow after blow with the redhead. "I can't help you if you killed him. Officially."

"I can. I'm not an agent yet," Natasha added helpfully as she ducked under one of May's roundhouse kicks, aiming to sweep the agent off of her feet. May, anticipating the move, tried to knock Natasha off of her balance instead. "Plus, there's a billion places in Russia to hide a body. Lot of snow."

"Don't encourage her," May chastised as she blocked another punch, trying to twist Natasha to the ground. "I've already got one homicidal agent to deal with. I don't need two on my hands. Even if the both of you are inherently homicidal."

"What?" Natasha suddenly asked, allowing May to finally send her sprawling to the ground. She looked up in surprise as May offered her a hand, pulling herself up. May walked over to the edge of the ring, swigging a large bottle of water and wiping the sweat from her forehead. "What do you mean, 'you don't need two of them on your hands'?"

May looked surprised. "...did you not want me as your handler after you passed the test?" She recovered quickly, though. "I can get Coulson as your handler, if you'd like. He's short a pair of agents, and I've been telling him to get laid for weeks, it'd be better if you nagged him to do it -"

"No," Natasha echoed quietly. "I'm just...shocked. You want me on your team?" She pointed a finger at herself, just to make sure. "Me? But Agent May, you've got the best of the best on your team. You've got Maria, and you've got Bobbi... _me_?"

"Miss Romanoff...Natasha...you pass this test, you're going to be one of the youngest people to pass," May said gently as Natasha joined her over in the corner. Bobbi handed her a water bottle, which she took gratefully. "That counts as something in my book. Plus, then Morse will actually shut up about you for once," she deadpanned, motioning towards an eagerly head-bobbling Bobbi. "I have the feeling you two work well together."

"I'm humbled," Natasha answered, realizing the honor that the older agent was bestowing upon her. She bowed her head slightly. "I promise I won't let you down, Agent May." She squared her shoulders. "I've never failed a test before this."

"Natasha, if you do fail...it's not the end of the world," May interjected quickly, worried that Natasha might take it the wrong way. "I'm not going to be mad if you don't."

But Natasha shook her head. determined. "I'm going to pass this exam or die trying." She put down her water bottle, clapping May on the shoulder. "I think I need to relearn how to shoot a .45. I haven't shot once since..." She trailed off. "Let's just say it's been a while." May, grateful for the change, nodded, and the two of them headed off to the range, Bobbi following close behind.

* * *

"Nat?" Bobbi pounded on the door of Natasha's quarters a few days later, a large thermos of coffee in her hand. "Come on, you've got to get some breakfast before your exam. May wants to go over some of your multiple choice arms questions before you start,"

Natasha opened her door, somehow without a hair out of place as she glowered at Bobbi. She glared at the coffee. "The hell is that?"

"Coffee?" Bobbi asked questioningly, holding up the thermos. "Have you never had coffee, Nat?" Natasha shook her head, and Bobbi frowned, immediately handing it over. "It's the stuff of the gods," she explained as Natasha sniffed at it curiously. "Wakes you right up in the morning and keeps you up late into the nights when there's ugly paperwork to be done. May swears by tea, but you'll see Maria chugging this stuff at some point sooner or later."

Natasha took a careful swig, swilling the liquid around in her mouth before taking another sip. "Are people supposed to have it this bitterly?" she asked. "If so, I don't understand how Maria has so much of this stuff."

"Oh, that's because Maria adds three shots of Irish cream and another five packets of sugar," Bobbi snorts, producing some sugar and cream. Natasha nodded, taking some of each and adding them to her coffee. "She's a complete wuss when it comes to taking her coffee black."

"Good, glad to see you got her out of bed," May passed by Natasha's quarters, carrying her own mug of tea. "Introducing her to coffee, I see. Tea's better. We'll work on that later," Bobbi stuck her tongue out at May, somehow brandishing yet another thermos of coffee.

"I got to her first, May. We'll have another coffee convert yet. Face it, you and tea are going down till the day you retire." Natasha looked confusedly between the two of them, finally deciding to just silently sip more coffee until May cocked her head to start their sessions.

"Protocol on an unconscious subject," May prompted rapidly as they strolled down the sunlight hallway on their way to the exam room.

"Don't engage unless subject returns to consciousness or shows sign of attempted escape," Natasha reeled off, "or I could just shoot them dead to begin with and not have to deal with any of it."

May pretended to ignore that last part. "Appropriate places to store extra ammunitions?"

"Pockets, belt, shoes, pants," Natasha rolled her eyes. "I take a man wrote this test, because hell if you can't keep extra ammunition in your bra. I do it all the time." Bobbi and May snorted in unison, the latter nearly letting her tea slosh out of her thermos.

"Of course the test was written by a man," Bobbi answered. "It's also going to be _given_ by a man, so please try not to beat his ass up too badly, will you? But, pro tip," She lowered her voice so that May wouldn't hear her. "If he makes a remark and you whoop his ass, you automatically pass the exam. 'S how I passed mine." Natasha's eyes widened. "Also how Hill managed to pass her multiple choice. She's awful at that shit."

They reached the doors of the examination room, where they swung open to reveal a very grumpy-looking Coulson, his foot tapping in impatience. "You're late," he said gruffly.

May didn't even bat an eyelash. "Oh, cheer up, Phil," she chided playfully, handing him another thermos of tea. "I brought you your favorite tea."

* * *

Halfway into the test, Natasha was seriously considering snapping her pencil (number two and Captain America-themed, Coulson made sure of that) in half and stabbing herself in the jugular.

It's not that the questions were hard. There were just So. Damn. Many. Natasha couldn't remember ever having to fill in this many bubbles on a sheet. Wearily, she turned the page once more, idly wondering if she could give herself a fatal papercut with the edge of the exam.

 _You come across an unarmed hostile, with automatic orders to terminate upon sight. What do you do?_

 _Take them out,_ Natasha's brain answered automatically, her hand gravitating towards the correct bubble without thinking. She'd gone over this question many times before with May, answering it so often she could recite it in her sleep. Her eyes flickered over the remainder of the choices, just to make sure. _Attempt to reason, leave them be, engage in combat...definitely not 'leave them be'._ She flashed back to the darkened corridors of the Olympic dorm, the sirens intermingling with the sounds of gunshots. The determined glint in Bobbi's eyes when she'd offered Natasha a hand. _She knew she was getting herself into trouble the moment she gave me the opportunity,_ she reminded herself. _She knew the answer, but chose differently._

 _Would I do the same?_

Natasha grappled with the question, trying to find a foothold within it that would allow her some semblance of comfort. Her pencil tapped against the exam packet, a staccato rhythm that caused Coulson to look up from his paperwork to glare at her. She glared right back before daringly tapping her pencil against the paper once.

He went back to his paperwork.

 _Would she pay it forward, like Bobbi had? Or would she play by protocol and take them out, no matter the backstory?_ Unbidden images flashed back into her head; of killings without mercy, staring down the barrel of a gun, knowing that someone's life was about to come to a very unforgiving end on behalf of the Red Room.

That wasn't who she was. Natalia Romanova had killed those people, not her. _What would Natasha Romanoff do?_

More images flashed through her head, but this time, of the dinner she'd gone at May and Garner's. Maria's face filled with mocking anguish as May attempted to spoil the newest _Harry Potter_. Bobbi attempting to defend her eavesdropping. May and Garner, exchanging looks so satisfied and tender the level of their love was confounding. _That_ was what Natasha wanted - to come back every day to the safety of a family, whether it was in theory or reality.

And damn if she didn't give others that same chance. If they deserved it.

"Geez, Phil, you've been in here how long? Guess the Russians take tests like they get with global programs!" Agent Mathers chuckled as he dropped into the room. He was holding an ice pack to his eye, Natasha noted with satisfaction. He also seemed to favor his left side, his right hand clutching his stomach with a wince.

 _Well. I wouldn't hesitate to kill him._

"Agent Mathers," Coulson greeted cordially. "From what I heard this morning, Agent Morse beat you up pretty badly." He gestured to Mathers' stomach. "She give you May's tried-and-true?"

"'S not my fault bitch couldn't take a joke," Natasha inhaled sharply at the mention of Bobbi, tightening the grip on her pencil imperceptibly. "May needs to learn how to lighten up her agents. They keep going around beating the shit out of people, one of them's going to get dismissed one day."

Coulson gave Natasha a sidelong stare, raising his eyebrows at her expression. "Well, from what I hear, Agent Romanoff's pretty skilled at hand-to-hand combat. And I'm not sure she'd take too kindly to you insulting a good friend." Mathers went pale and limped out of the room hurriedly.

Natasha raised a careful eyebrow at him. " _Agent_ Romanoff?"

"Just finish your test, Romanoff."

* * *

"I'm slightly alarmed at how fast Coulson processed your test," May marvelled quietly as she swept into the room later that afternoon, the test results in her hand. "If I didn't know better, I would've said you beat him up to get the automatic pass."

"It wasn't him I would've beat up," Natasha mumbled quietly, and Bobbi muffled a snicker. The three of them went quiet for a bit, the weight of Natasha's pass on their shoulders.

"You passed, Nat," Bobbi said quietly. "You're an agent now. One of us. You've got a home." May nodded, picking a small wallet from the back of her pocket and handing it to Bobbi with a small smile.

"Morse, would you like to do the honors?" Bobbi grinned, taking the badge and handing it to Natasha with a grand flourish.

"Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Romanoff."

* * *

 **Happy Chinese (or Lunar) New Year anyone out there! It's time for a windfall! But I love reviews more than money. Just saying :)**


	9. Number 45: IHOP

**Shoutout to Alexwoody29 for following!**

* * *

For the last two hours, Bobbi and Maria had stared as Natasha scribbled away on a piece of paper, silence filling the room except for the sound of pencil scratching against paper. They'd asked her to write down every single thing she'd heard of that she'd never experienced, thinking that the list would be relatively short.

Cut to now, when May had cut out for a conversation with Coulson, coffee, and sandwiches before making it back to see Natasha still writing. Wordlessly, she handed Bobbi and Maria the sandwiches before heading back out of the room for a cup of tea.

Truth be told, it was starting to break their hearts how much she was writing on that paper. Bobbi was fairly sure she'd caught a glimpse of the words 'ride a bike' and 'eat Lucky Charms' on the paper, and honestly, both of those were travesties in themselves.

Maria leaned over to Bobbi, her arms crossed. "Look, 'decorate a Christmas tree' is on that." Bobbi's heart lifted a little. She could do that one, at the very least...when Christmas rolled around. She'd have to bully Coulson into letting her have a say in the ornaments this year.

"And...done," Natasha finally said, setting down her pencil and shaking out her hand. She looked over the list, checking to see that she'd written every last thing. "That about does it." She caught the looks of pity on Bobbi and Maria's faces, and decided to put a stop to it. "I don't want your pity. You promised not to treat me any differently."

"Yeah, but _Lucky Charms,_ Nat?" Bobbi winces. "Not ever having had Lucky Charms is just _horrifying._ We gotta fix that one first. I'll be right back, I'm going to go get a box of cereal." With that, she tore out of the room, leaving Maria to take a seat next to Natasha.

"She's quite the handful, isn't she?" Natasha remarked quietly, watching Bobbi's departing figure. "Never met someone like her." Maria just nodded in agreement, and the two of them sat in careful silence for a moment.

"She wasn't always like this, you know."

The careful words broke the silence, and Natasha turned to Maria, their meaning sinking in. "What do you mean?" Her thoughts began to whirl with possibilities at just _what_ Bobbi had been before. Significantly less cheerful? Less skilled? In a darker place?

Maria hesitated, not sure if it was her story to tell. "There's...a reason why she came from Sci-Tech," she began. "Why she went into Ops instead of staying a scientist." (They'd educated Natasha on the Academy when Coulson had mentioned sending the three of them as teachers.) "Halfway through her last year, there was a party -"

"I got a full box!" Bobbi exclaimed chipperly as she entered with the Lucky Charms, plopping down onto the couch and popping a few marshmallows into her mouth. "Okay, so maybe it's not a _full_ box," she admitted, "but it's as close to a full box as I'll ever have."

Natasha exchanged looks with Maria, but the latter simply made a head motion, warning her not to push the issue. Instead, Natasha peered at the box's cover, raising an eyebrow at the artificially colored shamrocks and whales. "People eat these things?"

"Shit, speaking of that, don't tell May I'm eating them," Bobbi scooped out a handful of cereal and popped it into her mouth. "She'll kill me for eating unapproved foods." Realization dawned on Maria, and she hurriedly leaned over to grab a handful of cereal from the box. Bobbi made a small noise of possession, moving the box slightly out of Maria's grasp.

"Oh, come _on,_ Bob," she groaned, making another attempt to reach over Natasha to get the cereal. "It's been a month since I've actually had breakfast foods that weren't protein shakes and raw eggs. Or fruit and pancakes. Speaking of which," She turned to the redhead. "Is IHOP on your list? Because we were totally gonna go for IHOP, but then Morse went and picked you up, so we never got to go."

Natasha's eyes rapidly flickered over the list as Maria and Bobbi tussled mildly over the box, snickering when Maria made an especially impressive grab. "Number 45. 'IHOP'," she read off, turning to see her friends rolling around on the floor. Bobbi was making an attempt to roll away from Maria with the box in her arms, exaggeratedly screaming out, 'NOOOOOOOOO! YOU'LL NEVER GET THEM!'

"GIVE ME THE MARSHMALLOWS!" Maria all but screamed, picking herself up slightly before lunging at Bobbi. The other girl still managed to keep the box out of her grasp, however, and Natasha gave them a few seconds to wrestle before getting off the couch and picking the box out of Bobbi's outstretched grasp. Both of them looked up at her expectantly as she fished some cereal and marshmallows out of the box, popping them into her mouth.

"Not bad," was Natasha's verdict, which was met by vigorous nods from Maria and Bobbi. "I've eaten worse things." She dangled the box above their heads. "Which one of you wanted the box again?"

Maria and Bobbi both launched into a chorus of 'Gimme, gimme, gimme!', each of them making grabby hands while Natasha looked on, still amused. "I don't know, you both seem to want this pretty equally..." Their cries grew louder, only to fall silent as they caught sight of someone approaching behind Natasha. "What's the matter, decided that...oh," She turned around to see May behind them, holding a thermos of tea. "Agent May," she said as Bobbi and Maria scrambled to their feet, mortified. "I, uh, didn't expect you to drop by,"

"It's just May," the other woman reminded her. "And I came to check on Morse and Hill. Leave them alone for long enough, and they'll end up killing each other." She looked at the box of cereal in Natasha's hands, then at Maria and Bobbi. "...were you two eating Lucky Charms?"

It was amusing how fast Bobbi and Maria tried to stammer out a lie, the former going red and the latter looking everywhere but at her handler. "Uh...uh, n-n-no, ma'am, we weren't, we were just, uh, getting Natasha to, uh, try them! Yeah! We were getting Nat to try them! 'Cause it's on her list!" Bobbi blabbered. "We totally wouldn't eat these. They're not an approved food, and I'm already on three months probation, and I totally wouldn't want to prolong it by eating something that you _specifically_ said not to eat -"

"You have a piece of cereal stuck to your nose."

Bobbi turned red, hurriedly lifting a green shamrock off of her nose. When May continued staring at her, she sighed, popping the marshmallow into her mouth. "Maria started it," she muttered under her breath, shrieking as Maria jabbed her in the side. "Goddammit, Maria! All I wanted to do was eat a box of cereal in peace!"

"Settle down, ladies, you're both ugly," May deadpanned. "Morse, give me the box of cereal. I don't even want to know where you got it. I was _about_ to help you help Romanoff cross off a few things off of the list, but I don't help agents who steal food from the techs." Maria opened her mouth to protest. "Not even if they've showed remarkable restraint from hitting them."

"Not even if they're taking their dearest new agent to IHOP?" Bobbi singsonged, sidling over to May and nudging her in the shoulder. "Come on, May. You know you want hash browns. The ones we ate in Greece were perfectly awful excuses for hash browns." When May's face twitched, she pushed harder. "Even SHIELD's best and brightest can afford to take a break sometimes, May,"

May relented, slumping. "Fine. But don't tell Coulson. He'll never let me hear the end of it."

* * *

"I think we exposed her to too much, Maria," Bobbi goggled as Natasha took the entire scene of the restaurant in, her eyes wide. (Of course, when they'd all walked in, none of them missed how she'd checked every single exit, assessing the scene for threats.) "Maybe we should've ordered some back for HQ instead."

"And have every admin on our asses for ordering pancakes? Are you serious?" Maria shook her head as they slid into a booth, slyly obtaining a kid's menu and some crayons. She handed them to Natasha. "Here. Number 37." Quietly, Natasha took the crayons and set about filling in the blank shapes, staying between the lines with a heartbreaking determination. The maze was completed in record time, and May immediately grabbed a blue crayon, leaning over to challenge her to a game of tic-tac-toe.

"No offense, Romanoff, but I'm the best." Beside them, Bobbi and Maria nodded frantically. Natasha's eyes narrowed, and she gripped her own red crayon more tightly.

"You're on, May. I took out an entire squadron of mobsters while winning a match of Connect 4." A single red X was etched into the middle of the paper as the two women met eyes. Bobbi and Maria exchanged glances, ready to subdue both of them if this got ugly.

A single precise _O_ landed in a corner.

The other two watched with bated breath as the match progressed, with May's eyebrows furrowing when she got into a particularly sticky situation. Natasha smirked. She had this in the bag.

Suddenly, the tables turned when May placed a well rounded _O_ on the left side, drawing a vertical line down the left side of the board. "Three in a row." she smirked, throwing her crayon down. "Gotcha, Romanoff." Natasha stared at the board in complete shock for a few moments, her crayon nearly falling out of her hand.

Bobbi and Maria were also staring at the table in confusion, their mouths still opened when the waitress arrived with a pitcher of coffee, a mug of tea, and a large mug of hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and sprinkles. Natasha's gaze shifted from the board to the hot, aromatic drink, prompting May to reach for half and half to dump into her tea.

"I didn't order this."

The waitress looked terribly apologetic, reaching out for the drink before Bobbi stopped her. "No, it's okay," she said, smiling at the waitress to show she meant no harm. "I did, it's alright." Natasha looked at her oddly. "Number 6, Nat," she said quietly. "You can have some first,"

A warmth was already spreading through her, and she hadn't even had a sip yet. Slowly, Natasha reached for the hot chocolate, her taste buds mulling over the heavy richness of the cocoa mixed with the sweet, fluffy whipped cream. "It's amazing," she said quietly, and Maria grinned from over her mug of coffee.

"It's even better with coffee," she said, gesturing to her own mug. "Gives Morse nasty stomachaches, though, so I'd rather not contaminate the hot chocolate." The other woman in question reached for the mug Natasha had previously been holding, taking a careful sip from it and relishing in its warmth. A small dollop of whipped cream ended up on her nose, and Natasha giggled, motioning at it.

Bobbi was trying to get at the whipped cream on her nose with her tongue when the pancakes were set down; plate after plate of pancakes was soon weighing the table. The three of them looked at the spread, wondering how they'd managed to order so much.

"Chocolate chip's the best," Maria said finally, shoving the plate at Natasha. "And there's like, five kinds of syrup. I wouldn't recommend all of them at once," she said cheekily as she reached for some eggs. "Once, May did it and she didn't come out of the bathroom for three hours. If you're going to go for anything, I'd go for boysenberry,"

They fell onto the pancakes and sides readily, May and Bobbi getting into a small tussle over the last of the hash browns before splitting it civilly (it didn't stop May from protesting that Bobbi had cut it unequally, leaving Natasha to reach over with a sigh, splitting it right in half.) Soon, a lone clump of scrambled eggs was sitting on the last plate, and they all looked at it, daring each other to take it.

"Noseies," Maria said quickly, lifting a hand to her nose. Bobbi and May did the same, knowing the tradition. Natasha glared at them all before groaning, reaching for the last piece of egg with her fork. As she was about to spear it, all of their phones rang, causing them to jump and the egg to fall off of Natasha's fork.

May answered her phone first. "Coulson?" Silence stretched among the three of them as they waited to hear what he had to say. "Even though she's on...special circumstances? What are we dealing with?" She nodded as Coulson spoke rapidly on the other end, her expression hardening. "I'm sure she'll be glad to hear it. We'll be back in fifteen." She hung up, regarding the three women with a businesslike expression on her face. "We've got a mission."

"When you said 'special circumstances', did you mean..." Bobbi couldn't help but ask, and May sighed.

"Yes, Morse, you're off probation. Special circumstances. Try not to pick anyone else up this time, will you?" As Bobbi did a little fist pump, May turned to Natasha. "Come on, Romanoff. Finish the egg, and we've got to go."

* * *

 **In case you were curious, number 6 was 'sharing a drink with a friend'. Be a friend, and share a review!**


	10. Lost and Found

"Remind me what we're up against," May said tersely as they were strapped into a QuinJet thirty minutes later. "I didn't get much, other than 'Russian mafia', 'revenge kidnapping', and 'blueberry pancakes." She brandished a box at Coulson. "Which I got, by the way. Where's my thank-you?"

"Didja get the syrup?"

Bobbi tossed him a container from the other end of the craft, where she was getting briefed by another agent, nodding as she twirled her staves. "And you're not worried that this isn't a trap?" she asked Sitwell. "That this isn't revenge for Nat?"

"Oh, we know full well that it's a trap," Sitwell answered. "We want your team to make sure that this doesn't turn into a trap where millions of people die. All we need you to do is get in, rescue the hostage, and get out."

"Mhmm," Maria nodded. "And why aren't I going in with them?"

"You're needed elsewhere, Agent Hill," Coulson said to her. "Your face was too recognizable at the Olympics - shocker, I know, when you're teammates with Morse - but they'll be looking for people like you. We need you on the second strike wave."

"Morse, Romanoff, we're dropping you a short distance from the nearest entrance," Victoria Hand's voice crackled over a videoconference screen. "You two will infiltrate the base and get to the hostage as quickly as possible. Get out by any means possible." Her voice grew cold, and Bobbi could only assume the next part of the remark was directed at her. "Don't make any new friends."

As soon as her image flipped off, Bobbi rolled her eyes, flipping the bird at the screen. "Ma'am, yes ma'am," she muttered. "Don't make any new friends. Who the hell would want to make friends with giant hulking Russian mobsters?" She turned to Natasha. "Like, really. You're not that tall."

"This is for your own safety," May said suddenly, appearing behind Natasha before jabbing a needle into her neck. As the redhead rubbed the back of her neck, hissing slightly, May shrugged apologetically. "SHIELD orders. In case you go rogue."

"Right, because shoving my ass through the memory machine - _voluntarily_ \- wasn't enough," Natasha answered acidly. "Anything else you want to inject into me, May?"

"Nope, but here's your parachute," Bobbi took hers, shrugging on her straps.

"Look, Nat, we need to talk," she began. When Natasha turned to her, an eyebrow raised, Bobbi started her spiel. "I'm not going to treat you as some rookie I'm forced to take along with me on a mission, because you're more than that. We both know you're a hell of a lot more than that." Her eyes grew dark. "But, as a Level 6 agent, I rank higher than you. That means if I say to run, you. Fucking. Run. No matter what. Got it?"

"Don't you dare tell me when to run," Natasha hissed, leaning in close to Bobbi's face. Angry green eyes met blue. "If you tell me to run because of some stupid idea that you've got that you're expendable, you'd better think again, _Barbara._ You're worth a lot more than you think you are."

Bobbi inhaled sharply. "Don't. Call. Me. That." The light flashed green for the drop, and she yanked open the door. For a second, wind rushed into the craft as she quietly added: "Who said I was worth more than you?" before jumping out.

Natasha let out a strangled "argh!" as she jumped after Bobbi, all sound filtering out of her ears as she whooshed towards the ground. "We are going to have _words_ when this is over, Morse," she growled quietly into her comm. " _Words._ "

* * *

"Ooh, Morse, Romanoff, bad luck," Coulson warned as soon as they touched down on the ground, a terse silence stretching between the both of them. "Patrol, three o' clock," Bobbi got to it first, guns blazing as she took them out. "One on your six." This one was Natasha's, and soon they were all lying on the ground, the spy checking her nails.

"It's about half a mile to the compound," Bobbi said shortly, squinting through the dense fog that packed the air. They were surrounded by nothing by trees, their trunks reaching up so high neither of them could see the cover. "Let's try and stay on the path and see where that leads us." Natasha nodded, taking up Bobbi's rear as the two of them set down the packed, dirt trail.

The silence continued to reign as they walked through the forest, Bobbi's last remark still stinging in Natasha's mind. What kind of hell had the other agent been put through to think that she wasn't worth anything? Did it have something to do with the party Maria had mentioned before they'd gone to IHOP?

A rustle crackled from the bushes, and they jumped, both of them pointing their firearms cautiously at it. When nothing emerged, they both nodded at each other before continuing down the path. Soon, the large, looming factory-like buildings of the compound were standing before them, and Natasha shivered slightly, rubbing at her arms to keep warm. SHIELD may have given her a decent suit to work with...but damn, did their insulation suck. She'd have to have a word about that with the techs when she got back.

"What kind of security they got?" Bobbi whispered into her earpiece. Coulson was about to answer when Natasha rolled her eyes, simply striding up to the gate and hacking off the lock with one clean stroke of her gun.

"It's _Russia_ ," she said, beckoning Bobbi forwards. "No one's got a good handle on security except for the government and the Red Room. The best most people have is a padlock. Two, if they can afford it." Bobbi sighed, looking around furtively before darting forwards.

"That was too easy," she whispered to Natasha as they began to explore the compound. "I know it's Russia and all, but a padlock? Guarding the Russian mafia compound? There's got to be a catch."

"I know," Natasha admitted. "I feel like something's wrong. Breaking the padlock shouldn't have been that easy. Keep on your toes. We might have triggered something. After all, Sitwell _did_ say we were walking into a trap." They came up to a blindingly white building, and Bobbi scanned the perimeter before kicking the door in.

The first thing that hit them was the absolute _smell_ of the place; it reeked of rotten flesh mixed with - oddly enough - tomatoes and garlic. "What the hell were they aiming for?" Bobbi groaned. "Dead people lasagna?" Cautiously, they traipsed through the dark, foul factory, their eyes gradually growing accustomed to the darkness.

Once Bobbi's night vision kicked in, however, she regretted having taken the vision-strengthening class at the Academy. Miles of pipes ran around the room, with splatters of blood and gore hanging off of some like they were streamers. Every now and then, a crackle of electricity would go off, adding the smell of burnt flesh to the already pungent cornucopia of odors.

Room after room turned up the same result: nothing but human remains scattered around the room. At one point, Natasha yanked Bobbi back to prevent her from stepping into a mushy mess of intestines and blood, and the blonde agent shot her a thankful grin. Natasha just glared at her in return, a sign that she hadn't forgotten about their earlier tiff.

They turned into the last room, this one comparably clean to the ones before it. Bobbi switched on a flashlight, jumping when a large spotlight flashed on into the center of the room. In its center was a small, rickety folding chair covered in blood; on its seat, a small, box-like object.

Curious, Bobbi walked up to it, flipping the cover open. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the single red LED beep once before starting to blink rapidly. "Get down!" she shouted to Natasha, and the both of them hit the ground before the box exploded, setting off a similar chain of explosives around them.

Blood and guts flew everywhere, raining down on them like a twisted red storm. Bobbi yelled out in disgust as the mangled remains of a kidney tangled themselves into her hair. "When we get back, I swear I'm taking a shower for like, a week."

"That's the least of your problems," Natasha said nervously as she hauled herself to her feet, holding out a hand to Bobbi. There were shouts in the distance. "We've got company."

Bobbi cocked her ear, listening. (It was surprisingly hard when there was what seemed suspiciously like an eyeball coming dangerously close to hanging in her ear.) She went pale. "Twenty men. At the very least."

"At most?" Natasha asked, distracting herself from the fear by checking her magazines. "At most, how many?"

Bobbi swallowed. "Fifty."

 _"Они правительство!"_ Shots began to ring out, and Bobbi ducked as she returned fire. They were in open country, with nothing but smoldering ruins to cover them.

" _We need backup!_ " she screamed into her com as she rolled away from a hailstorm of bullets. "We're taking fire at far-off range!"

"Second strike team coming in," May confirmed. "ETA about five minutes."

"We don't have five minutes!" Bobbi yelled, panicked. "One of us is going to get killed in five minutes!"

"Then bring them closer!" May insisted. "Morse, I trained you for this! What do you do if the enemy's too far off to engage?"

"May, the last time this happened, I got shot in the ass!" she yelped back, but stood up anyways, running towards the gunfire and beginning to pick people off. "You take the other end!" she yelled to Natasha, and she nodded, firing rapidly at the men approaching the other side.

Still, more men seemed to come on a never-ending wave, and Natasha yelled in frustration as one of her pistols jammed. "They never stop!" she yelled to Bobbi. "When's the backup coming?"

"Backup's detained," Maria said frantically, and they heard the sounds of swearing in the background before a large explosive went off in the distance. "These men are coming from every goddamn nook and cranny and I have no idea how they keep coming. It's like the fucking zombie apocalypse."

Another explosive went off, and Coulson's voice sounded through the comm. "Area clear, let's get to Morse and Romanoff!" Natasha sighed as she stabbed a man through the leg, yanking her knife out with an effort before moving on to the next man.

It wasn't that fighting the men were a problem, it was just that there were so _many_ of them, she huffed as she sunk another dagger into another heart. It was almost becoming routine at this point. Kill a man, pull the knife out, kill another man...

The small courtyard they'd been fighting in was suddenly swarmed with people, most of them clad in SHIELD tactical gear. Natasha fought back a sigh of relief as she saw May knocking two heads together, yanking out her firearm to take down another three in rapid succession. "Got any more?" she yelled, and May wordlessly tossed over another firearm as the two began to work in sync.

"I got the last explosive," Coulson said breathlessly, and she saw him bend briefly to the ground before straightening up and shooting a man in the stomach. He fell to the ground, and Coulson made a rapid motion for them to head to the QuinJet. "All SHIELD agents, fall back!" he ordered. "This thing's about to blow!"

The agents began to hastily retreat, and the Russians, thinking that they'd won, began to jeer at them in their native language, and Natasha couldn't help feel a vindictive satisfaction as she mentally translated what they were saying. As she boarded the QuinJet with a hoard of agents, she grinned, flashing them a thumbs-up.

Their shocked faces were the last thing she saw before they all went up in a ball of flames.

* * *

"We got everyone back?" Coulson muttered to May, who was on videoconference with several people at once, each of them confirming their numbers. May nodded half-distractedly, frowning over a list flashing rapidly through the screen. "Good. Tell Romanoff and Morse I need them in debriefing in five."

"Romanoff's over there," May pointed without taking her eyes off of the screen. "I haven't seen Morse."

" _Morse isn't with you_?" Hand crackled over the link.

" _I thought she was with you,"_ Sitwell argued. _"Isn't she with you, Coulson_?"

"You mean she's not with you?" Coulson asked, his eyes wide. "May hasn't seen her." Terror began to grow in their stomachs, pervasive and insistent. In a sudden fit of urgency, May pressed a finger to her comms.

"Morse, come in." When there was no response, May let out a scoff. "Damn it, Morse, come in." Still nothing. "Bobbi, are you there?"

Silence. "Natasha, can you come here for a second?"

"What's going on?" Natasha asked in a low voice. "I just heard someone - Sitwell, I think - panicking. And Maria's panicking. She _never_ panics."

"You have to promise not to react loudly when I tell you," May said, placing her hands on Natasha's shoulders. "Do you promise?"

"I promise." Natasha looked puzzled. "May, what's going -"

"We lost Bobbi."

* * *

 _ **"Они правительство!" - They're government!**_

 **Giving someone a thumbs-up is apparently a _very_ rude gesture in Russia. The more you know!**

 **So we've lost Bobbi...methinks things aren't going to turn out well...I'd love to know your thoughts!**


	11. Past Memories

**Shoutout to MGA-Middy and Bluebirdg12 for following :)**

* * *

Bobbi awoke with a muffled gasp, the thickness of the black cloth bag around her head quickly hiding any sound she might've made. Coming into consciousness without vision was nothing new to her - May had insisted on running through several scenarios during her training - but the throbbing pain in her side was _definitely_ cause for concern.

As a matter of fact, so was the teensy matter that her hands were tied behind her back. And, Bobbi deduced as she attempted to wiggle her toes, it was a good guess that her legs were too. She bit her lip, unsure of whether to be relieved that she'd seen (and gotten out of) worse, or that she wasn't dead. Yet.

A bright ray of sunlight blinded Bobbi unexpectedly as the bag was forcefully yanked off of her head, and she blinked the stray strands of blonde hair out of her eyes as best as she could, struggling slightly to adjust her vision. She was met by a pair of slate gray eyes framed in a sunken, sallow face, with stretched lips and a double - oh, _ew,_ no, that was a _triple_ \- chin hanging in her face.

 _Well. This definitely ties for the worst thing I've seen._

"Ah, the American princess is awake," he growled, and Bobbi bared her teeth, every nerve grating with the nickname. "Such a pretty face. Such a shame you have put it to waste," With that, he grabbed Bobbi's chin in a greasy hand, and it took everything she had not to flinch, instead taking the time to take in her surroundings.

From the look of things, she was in the same room that'd been set up earlier, only now, all of the remains had been cleaned off the pipes. Someone had opened up a row of window high above her; that explained the light that had burned her retinas. Around her, several mobsters sat in reclining chairs, weapons within easy reach as they boredly inspected their nails. _There is no way in hell I'm getting out of here without dying._

The man who'd grabbed her chin (presumably their leader) yanked Bobbi forwards, straining against her restraints and tipping the chair dangerously forwards. "Tell me everything you know." he enunciated slowly, as if afraid she wouldn't understand. "Otherwise your little friend dies."

A flash of cold blood ran through Bobbi's body, terrifying her for a moment before she squelched it under control. _He could mean anyone. It's not necessarily Nat. It could be Mr. Whiskers. Calm down, Morse. Calm._ She focused a cold gaze back on him instead. "I'm not going to tell you _anything_."

 _Whack!_ With a metal _clang,_ Bobbi's chair landed sharply back on four legs as the mobster released her, but not before delivering a hearty slap to her face. "You bitch," he swore, his chest heaving. "You _will_ tell me everything."

Slowly, Bobbi realigned her neck - that slap had taken quite a bit out of her - before continuing to glare at the man. "You'd have to kill me first."

"That can be arranged," the man said, gesturing widely at the circle of minions sitting around him. "Or," he said, plucking up a manila file with a scythe and hammer crossed, a skill overlaid over the cover. "We know exactly what makes you tick, _Barbara_ ," he grinned as Bobbi scowled. "Let's see..." She put on her best disinterested face as the man flicked through the pages. "Ah, yes. Here." The tension in the air thickened. "June, 2000. That seemed to be a rather nasty incident, didn't it?"

"That was nothing," Bobbi denied, hurriedly disguising the full-blown revolt that had reared up inside of her. "A simple incident during a party."

"Oh, but it doesn't look like nothing," the leader taunted, slowly sliding a finger along the lines as he read the report aloud. "Agent was hospitalized for bleeding and burns,'" he mocked, cocking an eyebrow at Bobbi. "Therapy advised. Agent has requested transfer but not pressed charges. Would you look at that," he said, purposely thickening his accent. "Someone had something to keep. The rest of this file is blacked out."

Bobbi let out an audible sigh. Thank god May had taken pains to get rid of what'd happened that night.

"Perhaps it would be in our best...interests to find out what happened," the leader hissed, bringing his face closer to Bobbi's. "My men are certainly willing to help me figure out it, if you understand what I am saying." The three chins oozed arrogance as he continued. "I know certain...women like you are fond of certain...motivations."

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to continue glaring at him even though the words seemed to slice through her like a knife to Swiss cheese. "Never," she spat, directing every single ounce of venom she had into the response. "Not. On. Your. Life."

"Well, unfortunately for you, _Barbara -_ " He grinned when she winced imperceptibly. "That isn't up to you. " _делать все, что вы хотите, чтобы суки,_ " he called, and immediately, Bobbi was hoisted by her chair up into the air by four men.

The chair smashed to the floor, breaking into pieces and sending her toppling to the ground.

Suddenly, the gray walls came alive, the trails of pipes morphing into legs and arms tangled on the ground, on towels, people lounging around as muted sound filtered through her ears. The bright sunlight had suddenly become a starry night, the only illumination coming from softly lit candles that had been haphazardly placed in dishes on the grass. In the distance, Bobbi could dimly make out the Academy building before her field of vision was obscured by a rough cotton blindfold, someone roughly yanking her hair up to secure it at the back of her head.

 _No, not again,_ her mind gasped out wildly. _Not. Again._

 _Bobbi thrashed out wildly at her captors, trying to land a hit, but her efforts were futile as she was pinned down by a drunken scientist that was giggling in her ear. "You're sho pretty when you're drunk, Barbara," he slurred, and leaned down to try and kiss her._

Why was no one paying attention to this? _Bobbi willed herself not to let the tears fall as she struggled once more against her assailant, barely hearing the conversation above her over her racing heartbeat. "Let me go!" she tried, but it came out slurred, a sordid reminder of the drinks she'd had that night._

 _The boy (man? She wasn't sure) above her laughed, slapping her a couple of times before attempting to kiss her again. Bobbi was ready this time, blindly attempting to headbutt him before she was shoved back down to the ground. In response, her blindfold was yanked off, and she stared into a pair of dead green eyes, the man's heavy breathing warring with her heartbeat._

" _Let you go?" he asked mockingly. "Why would we do that?" When she tried to break free again, he only laughed, echoed by his motley crew flanking him. "Barbara, Barbara, Barbara," he said condescendingly, shaking his head. "All this time, and you thought you meant something. The Academy's top biochemist? Please? Hill's best friend? Bullshit. Hell, you even thought I loved you. You're worth nothing, Barbara._ Nothing _."_

 _Something inside of Bobbi shattered, and she went limp, too defeated by this sudden truth to even struggle. She wanted nothing more to curl up and cry at his words, but could only gasp out quick, shallow breaths. Her purple blouse, which had been chosen with care earlier that evening, moved with the speed of her breaths, catching her captors' attentions._

" _Well, would you look at that, boys," he drawled, a cocky smile lighting up his face. "Looks like she wants to have a little fun. And who are we to deny her?"_

Maybe if I close my eyes, it'll be over soon...

" _Hey, boys, did you hold down her ankles yet? She's a kicker." As soon as she felt the ghost of a hand at her foot, Bobbi took her last chance, kicking up and out with a cry. Instantly, there was a swarm of boys around her, pinning down every inch left of her._

 _And still, the party continued. Candles were lit. Students milled about, lazing on the lawn and conversing as if nothing was going on. "You were never this feisty with me," he said mockingly, slapping Bobbi across the face again. At this point, all she could do was cry as she shut her eyes against those dead green eyes. "I think you've got a hidden side, Barbara."_

" _And I thought you loved me," she gasped. It might not have been much, but it was all she had at the moment. He laughed, forcing her eyes open._

" _I_ never _loved you," he emphasized, breaking her already shattered soul into fourths. "How could I ever love someone that wasn't worth a damn thing?" Bobbi tried to riot against the words sinking into her skin, insisting to herself that she was worth it, that she was incredibly intelligent, that it was worth living, but the insults tore through right through her skin, sinking deeply into her bones. "And after this, no one's going to love you."_

 _She hissed as something hot dripped against her leg. "No, don't do this," she pleaded, trying to reason one last time. "Please don't do this. Please,"_

" _No one's going to want a scarred little bitch," he hissed at her, and Bobbi howled in pain as the wax seared her skin, arching upwards into the air._

" _I'd keep still if I were you," he warned, and she made out the faint outline of a scalpel through her tears. "You wouldn't want my hand to slip, would you?" She shook her head, mute, only to let out a yelp as something sliced through her side. "Oops. Guess my hand did slip."_

I'm sorry, Mom, _Bobbi whimpered mentally as she stared glassily into the night sky, tuning out the cheers as small incisions were traced across her once-unmarked skin. She didn't even flinch as candle wax was dropped on a wound - as it was, she didn't really feel the pain at all._ I'm sorry, Dad. I should've listened to you when you said I should've gone to college. If you ever meet Maria Hill, tell her she was my best friend. She's a pain in the ass, but I'm sure you'll love her. I'm sorry for everyone I was mean to throughout the years; but in my defense, everyone was idiots. I'm sorry for whatever I did to cause this. I'm not wishing for it to end, because I deserved it in some way or another, I suppose. I'm just sorry.

" _What the hell is going on?" Someone else pushed the figures aside, shoving the lead culprit to the ground and laying their foot to his face. "The hell is this?" The person in question looked Bobbi up and down, although they were too far away for her to see. "I see," they said, nodding as they turned to the other boys. "Use more force."_

The party was sucked away in a second, and it wasn't green eyes Bobbi was facing. They were a dead brown, nearly black; sunken into a gaunt, gray face that melted into the Everything seemed to hurt even if she moved just a millimeter, and she glanced down her body, checking for the source of her injuries.

One of the men raised a cigarette lighter in acknowledgement, pressing it directly to her upper thigh. Others followed in succession, the heat flickering across her body until she was sure she was going to pass out from the pain. Still, she refused to back down, gritting her teeth harder than she'd ever in her life.

The man with the dead brown eyes grinned, showing several missing teeth as he capped his lighter. "A woman of pain, I see." He drew a pistol, sliding off the safety. "I guess we'll just have to have fun with you while you sleep." With that, he dug the pistol into her side, deftly pulling the trigger.

 _I'm sorry_ was all Bobbi managed to think before the world tilted violently, rapidly swirling into black.

* * *

 ** _делать все, что вы хотите, чтобы суки -_ Do whatever you want to the bitch.**

 **If you think I should add some sort of warning, _please_ tell me. I'm not going to get offended. I'm really not.**


	12. Voices

**Shoutout to ShadowRascal for following!**

* * *

The black training bag swung wildly as it was met with an enraged punch, barely completing a full arc before it was hit yet again, this time with a strangled shriek. Natasha stared at the bag as it swung, breathing heavily. It'd been fifteen hours since May and Coulson had told her Bobbi was missing, and she'd spent most of her time back at headquarters whaling away at this very bag, landing hit after hit while trying to comprehend the rage that was currently racing through her veins.

Natasha threw another punch at the bag, hoping that with each blow, the angry confusion would dissipate, Bobbi would come back safe and sound, and that she'd _finally_ stop wondering why she was so torn up over one person.

 _She took you in, and this is how you repay her?_ a voice in her head asked. _By leaving her in the middle of a fight and letting her get captured?_ Another strike at the bag. _She took you in, gave you a new home, a new name. You gave her nothing in return._ Natasha struck at the bag again, squeezing her eyes shut tightly against her tears.

 _You don't deserve to have a friend like her._

Natasha screamed out once more as the chain on the bag finally snapped, the bag hitting the wall with a tiny _poof_ before it slid to the floor. She stared at it, breathing heavily, before striding over and giving it a hefty kick. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she berated herself as she kicked at it repeatedly. Her toes protested each time she kicked at it, but it was nice to let herself feel pain for a bit.

 _Go home, Natalia,_ the voices whispered. _Who do you think you are, pretending with this name? You'll never be rid of all that you did. Ever. It isn't that easy. Nothing is ever that easy._

"My name is Natasha," she muttered out loud, not caring if she sounded like a lunatic to the cameras she knew were watching. "Natalia is dead and gone."

 _Ah, yes, to sight she may be. But she remains in those you have killed, the eyes that stare blankly as you take their life without a second thought. After all, it's what you were meant to be, isn't it?_

"No," Natasha grunted, clenching her fists.

 _So much blood in your past. So much red. So much you cannot atone for. Why bother?_ "No," she repeated, shaking her head madly. "That isn't who I am anymore." Her breaths came shakily, and she bit her lip so hard she drew blood, its bitter tang a reminder of her past. "I am not an instrument of war." Despite her inner turmoil, she continued to kick at the bag.

 _No, you are an instrument of destruction. Made to destroy. Incapable of feeling. A machine, tuned to precision. Tune to kill. Without mercy, without hesitation. Without emotion. You were made for blood, Natalia._

"No."

 _You are death to those around you._

"No!"

 _A monster. Void of humanity._

"I'm not!"

 _Worthless._ The last word was drawn out maliciously. _And her blood will be on your hands._

"Shut up!" Natasha screamed, sinking onto the fallen punching bag with her head in her hands. The shout only cleared the swirl of voices in her head for a moment, and they continued to descend, each one of them more cutting than the one before.

 _You think they will forgive this? You lost Maria's best friend._ She shuddered as the hauntingly familiar grit of her coach's voice echoed in her head. _You lost the woman Melinda sees as a daughter. They will_ never _forgive you._

 _In the hands of the mafia? You know their strength. She will be dead within hours._

 _You have ruined her, Natalia. Do not try to hide behind that false name of yours._

 _At the end of the day, you are still a coward._

 _Still worthless._

 _Still useless._

 _They never intended to be your friends._

 _You were only a prize to covet._

"No," Natasha whimpered, pressing her fingers to her temples. She was nearly sobbing by now, crushed under the weight of the whispered criticisms. "No, none of it's true..."

 _So weak. You were trained better than this. Or has time with the Americans made you soft?_

"Nat?"

Maria's hand on her shoulder nearly made Natasha jump out of her skin, and she looked up to see Maria with a thermos of coffee in her hand, a concerned expression on her face. "May was watching the cameras and she said you were shouting at thin air?"

"Please don't, Maria," Natasha whispered, cringing away from the gentle touch. "It's not worth it." Maria's eyebrows furrowed. "I fucked up, I know." She looked away, staring forlornly at the wall. "I understand."

"What - what the hell are you -" Maria shook her head in disbelief. "Nat, what the hell are you talking about? It could've happened to anyone."

"I lost her, Maria," Natasha was talking more to the wall than anyone, but Maria figured it was better than nothing. "I was supposed to make sure she got out safe, and I abandoned her to the mafia instead. Tell me that isn't worse than leaving her there to die."

"Nat, no one's blaming you," Maria insisted. "If anything, _we_ should've done better. Brought more backup or something. Used more explosives. I don't know," Her voice cracked then, and Natasha turned around to see her friend's blue-gray eyes hollowed with pain. _She'd done this. She'd been the one to lose Bobbi and put Maria through such pain._

"I'm sorry, Maria," Natasha choked out. "I lost your best friend. I lost May's surrogate daughter. I lost an exemplary SHIELD agent." Words from earlier swam into her mind. "Her blood's on my hands," she said self-deprecatingly. "They were right. I'm not made out to have friends."

"Nat -" Maria was about to intervene when there was a voice from the door.

"She's not dead yet,"

They both looked up to see May, armed and ready. "Tech got a lead on one of her trackers. Suit up." Her face was deadly. "I want you both with me on this op."

* * *

Bobbi was roughly shaken awake, and her vision came into dim focus as she realized she was once again tied to a chair. This one was metal - no chance of smashing it to bits this time. The bullet wound throbbed in her side, and she realized that it'd been crudely taken out, the stitching on it haphazard and messy. She'd have to have it looked at when she got back to SHIELD.

There was a scrape of a chair, and suddenly, the same man from before was sitting in front of her, his hand in his chin contemplatively. "I see you've decided to patch me back up," she said sarcastically. "Pity none of your men are actually trained."

"That is the flaw in your assumption, isn't it?" he asked tauntingly, and the bright glint of metal flashed through the air as he spun a knife in his hand. Bobbi gulped, shifting her tied wrists slightly to see if there was any room to move. The burnt skin on her wrists protested, and she let out a silent hiss under her breath. "All of these men had potentials. A future. This man," he pointed at one taking up the guard position at the door. "was going to be a doctor." Another point. "A lawyer. All ruined with the _help_ of your so-called _government_."

Bobbi sighed. It was always about the politics with these people, wasn't it?

"That is why you are going to help me take them down." The man's gray eyes took on a new fervor, and the knife was now pointed straight at her. "They will never see it coming, a force of destruction from the woman they trusted."

"And because you're pointing a knife at me, you think that I'm going to agree just like that?" Bobbi snarled. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?" He sighed just as petulantly as she had a moment ago.

"I was hoping the knife would motivate you enough, but I see we will have to resort to...other matters." He nodded, and suddenly there was a blur as she was jabbed in the side, paralysis rushing through her system. Incomprehensible sound must've flowed out of her mouth, for the other man laughed before saying,

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, _Barbara,_ " The disgust at her full name roiled at full strength along with her terror. "It wears off soon, and by then you'll be our fully willing subject." It was true, she thought sluggishly, already feeling her rationality already slipping away. Bobbi struggled to grasp into it, mentally lunging for the last threads of her sanity. If only she could hold on until someone got here - it shouldn't be much longer...

"Don't try to fight it, it only makes it worse." The man's voice, which had grated against every fiber of her being earlier, was already sounding much more appealing, sinking into her skin like a balm. "No one's going to come for you, Barbara. They've already written you off and left you for dead, so why bother?"

 _Maybe it's true,_ the pessimist in her mind offered. _After all, they've got Nat, don't they? May's a legend in herself. Do they really need you? Do they really need that weak, worthless girl who's still only a scientist at heart? That couldn't even fight off a gaggle of frat boys at a party?_

 _Maybe he's right, even after all these years._ Bobbi slumped defeatedly, releasing the last bits of her control. _Nothing. Useless. Good for nothing._ Even as she admitted it to herself, a calm descended over her mind, blanketing any leftover rioting thoughts she had.

"There, isn't that better?" The man's voice came from somewhere seemingly far away, and she nodded, the earlier pain of the injection beginning to smooth itself out. "They'll never know what hit them."

* * *

" _Fuck,_ " Maria cursed as she looked over the display one more time. "May?" she called. "May, you're going to want to come see this!"

May hurried over, one hand planted on the back of Maria's chair concernedly. "What's going on, Maria?" The other girl hurriedly pulled up the heat scannings of the past few minutes.

"See that?" She pointed to a heat signature that was immobile, save for the faintest of shifts. "That's Bobbi right there. She's tied to a chair, I think, but she keeps moving - I think she's trying to test her bonds." She hit the fast forward button, slowing it down to when one of the other heat signatures flashed, briefly interacting with Bobbi's before moving away again. Bobbi's silhouette seized, arching upright before slumping into the chair once more.

" _Fuck,_ " May swore right along with her, running a hand through her hair. "And we have no idea what just happened?"

"Not a clue," Maria answered. "If I wanted to hazard a guess, I'd probably say some sort of drug to induce shock. That's the only way she'd have a reaction like that."

"Tech just pulled up records of an experimental drug they've been using," Coulson called as he rushed up to them. "It's supposed to induce temporary paralysis as a motivational factor. The more they resist it, the more it hurts." He frowned as he looked over the screen. "It's a mix of inhibitors that's supposed to reduce rationality and induce servility, along with repressing dopamine levels."

"So, basically, mind control," Natasha cut in. "I do my reading," she said when everyone looked at her. "And Agent Coulson, the dopamine repressors - if she's got any seriously traumatic memories, any negative emotions - those are going to be out in full force." She looked at Maria, then, raising a slight eyebrow.

"Mother _fuckers_ ," Maria swore, realizing what Natasha meant. She sent May a look, nodding as if to say ' _that_ night', and May's face twitched in outrage.

"We're going to need our best medics on standby. I have the feeling this isn't going to go over well."

* * *

 **DUN DUN DUN...**


	13. Who Tells Your Story

**Shoutout to AprilBaby95, sherimi, and bondi98 for following!**

* * *

"Impressive," the leader said as he watched Bobbi complete a spinning drop-kick, planting a foot in one of the men's chests and sending him to the floor. "The Americans have certainly left us with a capable one this time."

"Imagine the havoc she will wreak," another man remarked passively from beside him as Bobbi launched herself onto another man. "The negativity seems to run deep, it seems." He frowned. "You do not worry that they will burn out inside her?"

"If she is truly of the government, she will have been taught to repress her emotions," the leader answered as he heard a shrill war cry. "We are simply giving her a chance to...express them."

Their attention was diverted as Bobbi managed to grab a gun from another agent, shooting the man she was currently fighting in the leg. She dropped the gun after the man hit the ground, straightening up and turning to the leader. "What else do you require of me?"

The man smiled, stepping forwards. "There will be people coming after you shortly," he began, and Bobbi squinted. "They will say they are here to protect you, to save you from us. But they intend to _hurt_ you, Barbara. They plan to take you away from us, to make you relive those memories inside your head that we took away. You don't want to remember them, do you?"

"No, sir," Bobbi intoned flatly. "Not at all."

"Then you will want to take them out, no?" He began to walk around Bobbi, noting with satisfaction that she seemed to straighten up in his presence. "You will want to spare no mercy with any of them. Kill them all. Prove your worth, Barbara. Because if you don't - " He stopped, looking her dead in the eyes as best as he could. " _You'll truly be worth nothing at all._ "

"Kill them," Bobbi repeated. "Or I am nothing."

* * *

"You ready?" Maria asked Natasha some time later. The redhead was strapping on knives and pistols without abandon. "Whoa," she said, holding up a hand. "You put too many on there, you're going to hurt yourself when you breathe, Romanoff."

"I have to," Natasha said shortly as she reached for another knife on the table. She strapped it to her inner arm, tightening the leather straps around it. "There's no telling how many people I'm going to have to take out. Plus, they're the Russians. They're unpredictable. Ruthless." She finished tucking a gun into her boot, turning to face Maria. "I'm not about to let Bobbi die by being unprepared."

"Nat," Maria softened a bit, placing a hand on her shoulder. " _No one_ is blaming you for what happened, okay? _No. One._ Any of us could've lost Bobbi. It doesn't make you any less of a person. And it definitely doesn't make you worthless." She bit her lip before continuing. "I don't know what happened to you back there," she said softly. "What they taught you back in the Red Room. But it's not always success or die. Sometimes we fail. Sometimes things don't go our way. But we can't let them haunt us. We'll never be able to move on if we do,"

"How do you know?" Natasha whispered, her eyes beginning to gloss over. Her chin was set defiantly, but Maria detected the slight wobble in her features. "What do you know about feeling worthless, Maria?" Maria opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off. "What do you know about the lowest depths of hate and isolation? About _nothing_ you do being good enough? What do you know about never living up to standard, huh, Maria? Tell me." She angrily strapped on another knife without looking. "What do you know about being haunted by your past regrets?"

"More than you think, actually." Maria's answer was short, sharp, and Natasha paused, her eyebrows knitted in surprise. "I see her every day and wonder what would've happened if I hadn't stepped in. If I could've prevented her from walking down to the quad. From going to the party. You think you're the only one haunted by the memories of your past, Nat?" she asked quietly. "I see them in front of my face every. Single. Day."

"What..." Natasha was dumbfounded for a minute, her face scrunching up in confusion before realization dawned on her. "Her?"

"Yeah," Maria retorted. "So don't think for a _second_ you're the only one alone in this, Romanoff. Stop acting like no one understands what you're going through. Because damn right we do."

"We drop down in ten," May interrupted the both of them as she strode into the room, taking in the number of weapons on Natasha's person. She sighed. "I'd never thought I'd say this, but...Romanoff, you've got too many weapons on."

* * *

"They are coming,"

The leader looked up at the guard's shout, an evil smile twisting over his marred, ashen features. He turned to Bobbi, who was standing as straight as a post, strands of blonde hair whipping slightly in the wind. "Do you hear that, Barbara? _They are coming._ "

" _YOU ASSHOLE, WE'RE COMING FOR YOU!"_

Just like that, there was a loud explosion, slabs of concrete tumbling in from the ceiling. Every man winced as they were exposed to the bright sunlight, some shrieking as they were buried in the rubble. Multitudes of SHIELD agents dropped into the facility, and the room was suddenly a cacophony of noise as they duelled, opposing guns firing at each other.

Through the chaos, Maria and Natasha fought back-to-back as they searched for their best friend, fighting off thug after thug. "Bobbi!" Maria shouted as she buried another knife into an enemy's back. "Bobbi, where are you?"

"I haven't found her yet," Natasha called over the haze of gunfire, swearing roughly as she had to stop and reload her cartridge for the fifth time. "You got anything, May?"

"Not a chance," May yelled, sinking her own array of weapons into the men surrounding her. The waves of men continued, and fatigue began to wear at her bones as she reached for a knife that wasn't there. The man she was fighting took the opportunity to try and stab her in the stomach, but suddenly, Coulson was there, twisting the assailant's arm before shooting him in the head.

Maria saw this in between bouts, but before she could say anything, May beat her to it. "Not. A. Word."

"Please, May, even _I_ can see it," Natasha scoffed as she made quick work of another man. "You really should just get it together and kiss hi - OW!"

"Nat, are you alright?" Maria panicked, whipping around to see her friend being struck repeatedly by a baton. The flurry of hits were so quick that Natasha didn't even have time to strike back, forcing her to the ground. She attempted to struggle back up, only to be beaten back down.

Natasha let out a grunt before trying to sweep her assaulter's feet out from under her, but the other figure was having none of it; another kick and the spy was on the floor. Maria huffed, doubling her efforts to try and get to Natasha.

It wasn't until the figure roughly pulled her up and began whaling at her again that Natasha caught the shock of blonde hair that stopped her short, allowing her opponent to deliver a hit to her stomach. " _Bobbi_?"

Maria heard the gasp, whirling around to see Natasha standing in complete confusion, her jaw slack. "Bobbi, what -" barely came out of her mouth before Bobbi raised a gun, preparing to shoot.

Natasha reacted instantly, trying to knock the gun out of Bobbi's hand. Bobbi let out a scream of frustration, launching herself at the other woman. Maria dodged back and forth, trying to catch the fight. Normally, she mused, Bobbi and Natasha were equals, sometimes depending on the day. But this time, Bobbi seemed to have a heavy advantage, her blows hard and crippling. Even Natasha was surprised by Bobbi's ferocity, her returning hits hesitant.

"TAKE HER OUT!" The leader's shout echoed across the room. "DO YOU WANT TO BE OF WORTH?"

The scowl on Bobbi's face deepened. "I _am_ of worth," she muttered to herself. "I _am_."

"Bobbi, what's going on -" Natasha didn't have any time to get out a complete sentence before Bobbi was on her again, her movements tinged with desperation and determination. Between blows, she could hear Bobbi's mutterings.

"I _am_ worth it. I _am_ worth it. I _am_."

"It's gotta be the drugs Coulson told us about earlier," Maria said frantically as Natasha ducked to avoid another blow. "You said it would enhance any negative emotions running through her, right?"

"Well, not that specifically!" Natasha called back as she swung again, missing. "But yeah, why?"

Maria took a deep breath. "Remember our conversation earlier?"

Natasha ducked again, still trying to avoid hitting Bobbi. "You're kidding."

"I'm not." Maria surged into action as she narrowly avoided being smacked over the head with a large baseball bat; she took care of him by shooting him in the stomach. The number of men seemed to be thinning, Coulson and May strategically taking them out while Natasha dealt with Bobbi.

"Bobbi," Natasha pleaded as she dodged another sweep of the batons. "I know you're in there. You're worth it. I promise." She tried to take a step forward, but was nearly knocked backwards. "Bobbi, _please_."

"No," For the first time, Bobbi stopped as the action went on around the three of them. She stared at Natasha with cold, blue eyes, her batons swirling in her hands. "You told me I wasn't. Made me believe I was." A flash went through her eyes. "You _hurt_ me."

"What - Bobbi - _no_ ," Natasha answered, thoroughly confused. Maria had told her someone had screwed Bobbi over, but not like this. "Who the hell told you you weren't worth it?" Bobbi's mouth tightened, but she refrained from striking again. "I'm serious, Barbara. Who was it?"

"It was you," Bobbi answered in a monotone, and both Maria and Natasha's hearts broke in unison. "You said I was beautiful. You said I was smart. You said I could do anything." Was that the glimmer of a tear in her eye? "It was all a lie."

"It wasn't a lie," Maria took a turn, sincerely wanting her best friend to understand. "What they told you was a lie, Bobbi. They didn't see what I saw. They couldn't see past anything but themselves."

"I thought you would save me," Bobbi turned on Maria. "I thought you were my best friend. I thought you would come and save me from them." Her expression turned dark. "But you didn't." She spat at the other woman. "You told them to keep going. You didn't care whether I got hurt or not." Maria looked horrified, all of the color draining from her face as Bobbi continued. "I believed your lies. Just like the ones they told me." The grip on her baton tightened. "I don't do that anymore."

 _BAM!_ Natasha stared as Bobbi crumpled to the ground. May stood above her with a pipe in her hand, her mouth twisted into an unreadable grimace. "I had to," she said gravely. "She'll be better once she wakes up. But she's not going to be any better here." She looked at Maria, who was on the verge of collapsing. "Hill, are you alright?"

"That's not how it happened," Maria whispered, her voice cracking. "I swear, Nat, that's not how it happened. I tried to help her, I did, I was there, that's not how it happened. You've got to believe me, I ran as soon as I heard..." May regarded her trainee with something akin to pity, and it was for the first time that either woman noticed that the entire facility had fallen silent. Bobbi's body lay on the ground at their feet, the rest of the men supposedly controlling her either dead or well on their way.

"Is she alright?" Coulson asked brusquely, falling silent when he found all three of them looking down. "Oh."

"They used the party on her, Phil," May said shortly. "Sounds like they twisted the ending, too." Coulson frowned, his features tightening when he saw Maria. "She's not going to like this when she wakes up,"

"If she wakes up at all," Natasha interjected gloomily. "There's no telling what the side effects are to this thing."

"How do you know so much about it?" Maria asked. Natasha looked up, surprised. "I mean, isn't a little suspicious that you somehow know so much about this drug just when we need it the most? How'd you know that it would prey on her worst emotions, huh, Nat?" she asked, rounding on the Russian. "How'd you know about the dopamine? As a matter of fact, since when were you an expert on the brain? Answer me, Romanoff," she said when Natasha went silent. " _Answer me._ "

More silence.

"I knew it," Maria said coldly, turning to Coulson. "Phil, you should take her in."

"What? No!" Natasha spluttered wildly. "I didn't have a part in any of this! How could I have?"

"Well," Coulson answered uneasily, "the files _did_ say that the serum had been in the works for a while. It does predate any of your activity in the Olympics."

"It's the Russian _mafia_! I was trained by the Red Room! They _hate_ the Russian mafia!"

"You can never be too careful with Russian politics," May said guardedly, taking on a defensive stance. "They can change at the drop of a hat."

"Look, believe what you want to believe about my past, but _I had no part in this!_ " Natasha insisted with fervor. "Do you think I would've felt so badly about losing Bobbi if I had?" she demanded, throwing her hands into the air. "Do you think I would've knocked the training bag off of the hook? That I would've started screaming at thin air? That the guilt would've torn me in two to the point where I had a nervous breakdown? Well, news flash for you, Hill," she spat. "I can count the number of nervous breakdowns I've had on one hand. You know how many that is?"

This time, Maria was silent. "One," Natasha shoved a finger into her face. " _One_ , and it was over the woman that lies at our feet. Tell me again that I played a part in this. I _dare_ you. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm a traitor, Maria Hill. Do it. I dare you."

* * *

 **And now we face tension...just _what_ happened to Bobbi?**


	14. Can't Say Hello

A cacophonous chorus seemed to yowl in Bobbi's head as she struggled to open her eyes, only increasing in dissonance when she groaned out loud. The walls of SHIELD's med bay weren't unfamiliar to her - she'd seen them plenty of times when Coulson had landed himself in the infirmary, having had to bring May her toiletries - but what nagged at her was the fact that she couldn't remember having created a reason to land _herself_ in the med bay.

 _What had she done?_

Over in the corner, a small figure stirred. "Oh. Good. You're awake." May stood and stretched, several joints in her body cracking as she made her way over to Bobbi's bedside. "You were out for nearly two days. Hill's beside herself with worry."

"Maria?" Bobbi rasped quietly, biting off another groan when her head erupted in protest. "The hell happened, May?"

May grew quiet. "What do you remember, Bobbi?"

Bobbi furrowed her brows. Sifting through her memories seemed to be physically exhausting, and trying to find the last thing she remembered was like struggling through a quagmire. "I don't really know," she admitted, her chest clogged with uncertainty. "We were on the op, and Nat was saying something about not being worth anything...right." Her jaw set. "May, where's Nat?"

May was silent. "May," Bobbi prodded. "Where's. Nat."

The other woman struggled for words, opening and closing her mouth several times before finally arriving at a conclusion. "Natasha was taken in for questioning,"

"WHAT?!"

* * *

"Do you really think Nat was a part of this?" Maria asked Coulson later that night as they were sifting through the evidence. She hadn't moved from her spot at the computer in about eight hours, determined to find the truth.

"I wish I could give you a straight answer, Hill," Coulson sighed as he clicked through another video feed. "You know as well as I do that I don't want to be wrong about my initial assumptions, so let's all hope to God she's just smart."

"Well, I haven't found any mention of her so far," she muttered as she skimmed through another manila folder. "Although it might be because my coffee's running low and I haven't slept since we got Bobbi."

" _Maria,_ " Coulson managed to sound scandalized and fearful at the same time. "Get some _sleep_." He looked around in alarm. "Do you know what happens to agents that don't keep May's protegees in good health?"

She stifled a yawn. "They, uh, get yelled at?" Truthfully, it _would_ be good to go to sleep, she mused, the words were starting to blur together on the page...

"They _die_ ," Coulson whispered in horror. "Don't you remember the last time Agent Johnson was on a stakeout with Morse?"

"Oh, yeah," Maria muttered. "What happened to Agent Johnson anyways?" Bobbi had come back from the stakeout running on the last remnants of her fumes, nearly dropping dead in the corridor outside of her room.

Coulson looked around again to make sure no one was listening. "May got her sent to the _Fridge_ ," he confided. "She's not coming back until she's ready to cash in her retirement package."

"Maria, what are you doing up so late? It's nearly morning."

May was peering over their shoulders while Coulson sat absolutely still, not daring to move a muscle. He didn't even dare to breathe, Maria noticed, something that didn't seem to be working out for him. "Coulson," May said amusedly. "Are you the one keeping Maria up so late?"

"Yes," he squeaked. "Pleasedon'tsendmetotheFridge."

"Oh, Phil," she sighed, ruffling his hair. He relaxed infinitely. "I won't send you to the Fridge." Her expression hardened as she turned to Maria. "Maria. Bed. _Now._ "

"But May -" Maria began to protest something along the lines of helping her best friends or trying to stop a SHIELD scandal before it began, but was easily cut off.

" _Bed_. Coulson and I can take care of this until you get a good night's sleep."

"Fine," Maria sighed as she shoved away from the desk, slumping over as she headed to her bunk. When she got out of May and Coulson's line of sight (but not their earshot, it seemed May was starting in on Coulson's lack of proper supervision,) she veered on a hard right towards the interrogation cells instead.

She had business to take care of.

* * *

Natasha sighed, staring at the slate gray of the interrogation cell. She'd only seen it a handful of times, but she missed the night sky. She missed the twinkling of the stars above her head as she'd gone for midnight endurance runs, the moon her only illumination as she arced between parallel bars over and over again until she couldn't hold on anymore. As much as the day brought sunny warmth and reassurance, the night was when she'd always been at her best. Maybe that was why she was cut out to be an assassin, Natasha mused grimly. Maybe she'd always been meant to stay in the shadows, unnoticed.

After all, her past didn't exactly warrant a fucking medal.

The door to her cell clicked, and Natasha tensed. No one had been scheduled to visit her after ten, and if her internal clock was still working (she'd have to check on that one day), it was a little after one. Which meant that whoever was on the other side of the door was _definitely_ not supposed to be there.

A lithe figure slipped into the door, quickly glancing behind them to make sure they weren't followed. Once the door shut, they sighed, stepping out of the shadows. Natasha had already taken a defensive stance, her hand tightened around a knife they'd missed while sweeping her down. The other person saw, and held their hands up in peace. "Whoa, Nat. Just me."

Natasha lowered her knife confusedly. "Maria? What are you doing here?"

"Getting answers." As Maria came closer, Natasha spotted the bags framing her out-of-focus eyes, blurry after having had stared at files and computer screens so long. "How did you know about the drugs, Nat?"

"And why should I tell you?" As much as Natasha respected Maria, she wasn't _quite_ past having been accused of being a traitor. Or, worse, a sleeper agent. _After_ she'd proved her loyalty. "I mean, it's not like you believed me after I put myself through hell to prove I was loyal." Maria winced. "What makes me believe you'd believe me the second time?"

"I'm technically not supposed to be here."

"You think that'll change things?" Natasha asked, her temper beginning to flare up. "When Bobbi first brought me here, she promised SHIELD would be different from the Red Room. That I'd have a better life. But so far, I really haven't seen that. I've seen a lot of secrets, lies, and assumptions. Not really different from what I saw."

"Nat -"

"'Join SHIELD', she said. 'It's better,' she said. You know, I wonder what Bobbi sees in you guys sometimes," Natasha ranted. "When it comes down to it, SHIELD is exactly like the Red Room. Just better defended and more widely supported."

"If this were the Red Room, you'd be dead by now," Maria retorted. "I wouldn't be in here, trying to get a simple answer for my best friend, Natasha. I'd be your firing squad. So why don't you tell me again how much SHIELD is like the Red Room?"

"You know why, Maria?" She cocked an eyebrow at the other woman. "SHIELD has a truth serum, don't they? They want to use it if I don't give anything up." When Maria didn't say anything, Natasha plowed on. "You know what the Red Room would use on me? Drugs. They'd play on my worst emotions and fuel aggression. I'd attack whoever they told me to. Sound familiar?" she mocked when Maria's mouth dropped open. "Yeah. And you thought I was part of the Russian mafia."

"I didn't - I had no idea -"

"Maria, you spent eight hours looking through information you seized from the Russian mafia. You're meaning to tell me you didn't come across a _single_ mention of the serum they sold to the Red Room."

Maria finally slumped, defeated. "I'm sorry, Nat," she whispered. "I shouldn't have called you a traitor."

"Be truthful with me, Ria," Natasha lowered her guard. "Did you really think I was part of this whole thing?"

Maria shook her head. "May nearly fought Sitwell when she tried to get you out of here." At that, Natasha barked out a small laugh. "She's with Coulson. I think she's the only one more determined than me to get you out of here." She hadn't heard Bobbi's name at all since Maria had stepped in.

"Maria...what happened to Bobbi?"

"She can't remember what happened," Maria admitted. "I don't think anyone's told her just yet; May might be putting them off until we sneak in there and tell her ourselves, to be honest. Which is partially why I'm here," she said quickly. "Come on, get your stuff. I'm busting you out of here."

* * *

" _Clear,_ "

At Maria's signal, Natasha slipped past the corner and darted down the hallway, checking to see if the coast was clear before signaling to the other woman. Maria flitted through the hallway, the glass panes above them reflecting the moonlight onto the wall. Slowly, they made their way across the building to the elevators, taking them up to the med bay.

Natasha was the first to check the coast. "We're good. Which room did you say it was again?"

"Should be the third one on the left after you take the right," Maria told her, and the two of them dashed down the darkened hallway, the darkness providing a semblance of mischief. At that moment, they weren't two agents trying to evade detection - they were simply two girls dashing through a black hallway, giggling while they used the small blinking LED lights to guide them.

At last, they found Bobbi's room, silently sliding to a stop in front of the door. Natasha's stop was more classy than Maria's, a neat skid instead of a fumble that ended up with Maria tripping over Natasha's bag and nearly face-planting into the floor.

Natasha looked down at her prone figure amusedly. "You good, Hill?"

"Peachy," Maria muttered from the floor.

* * *

Bobbi started as there was a thud from just outside of her room door, hissing as her body protested. Whatever had been in her system had made her somewhat of a light sleeper, something she _despised_ \- Bobbi loved sleeping like the dead. As quiet curses emanated from her door, she squinted, trying to determine who it could possibly be. Her breath hitched in her chest as her door squeaked open, and she looked desperately around the room to find something she could use as a weapon. Quietly, she berated herself for not having something on her; she'd always held a weapon since the incident. "Who's there?" she called quaveringly, hoping her fear wouldn't show. (Losing a whole two days had really shaken her, apparently.)

"The hell you doing awake, Morse?"

"Maria," Bobbi sighed in relief, bursting into laughter as Maria dragged herself into the room. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Tripped over Romanoff's bag on the way here," Maria groaned as she pushed herself to her feet. "But enough about me." She scrambled over to Bobbi's bedside, easily climbing into the bed with her best friend. "Are you alright?"

"I hate that I've lost two days, Ria," Bobbi sighed, slowly slumping back against the bed. "I've got burns and lacerations all over my legs and stomach, I can barely move, and I have _no fucking idea why_ ,"

"Nothing?" Maria asked. "You don't remember a thing?" Bobbi shook her head. "Well," she muttered to herself, "that's good...and bad."

"Good? Why would it be a good thing?" Maria looked sheepish.

"I think it'd be better if we got someone else in here to explain that,"

* * *

Outside, Natasha was staring at the door when she heard the rehearsed line, but for some reason, her feet wouldn't move. She couldn't go in there and face Bobbi, knowing full well she was responsible for the fact that she'd lost two complete days and a wide range of motion. She should've never been in there in the first place. _Should've been me,_ Natasha muttered bitterly to herself.

And it was true. It should've been her, with nothing to lose. Bobbi had everything to gain, and most _certainly_ didn't deserve to have her own past dredged up, no matter how gruesome or banal it was. But yet, Natasha had been the one to abandon Bobbi in the middle of the Russian wilderness, pitted her against opponents she had no clue how to fight.

She didn't deserve to talk to Bobbi after that. Didn't deserve the privilege of her friendship. Hell, she wouldn't blame Bobbi if she walked in and got cussed out upon sight. (She figured Bobbi would shoot her once she'd gotten out of med bay.) Despite her earlier excitement at being snuck out, if she'd known they were going to see Bobbi, she would most _definitely_ have put up a fight at leaving.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see her savior (friend? Best friend?). Natasha fought back an internalized sigh. She couldn't poison Bobbi's atmosphere with the havoc she'd wreaked upon the situation. She just couldn't. She _wouldn't_.

With a wrenching pang in her stomach, she turned, picked up her bag and headed back down the darkened hallways.

* * *

"Who else would be better at explaining?" Bobbi demanded, but Maria already had confusion written on her face.

"She was supposed to come in," she muttered quietly. "Hang on" was said to Bobbi as she climbed out of bed, heading towards the door. Quickly, she poked her head out, scanning back and forth. "Nat?" she whispered quietly, not wanting to alert anyone to her presence. "Nat, where are you?"

No response. Sighing, Maria pulled her head back into the room, heading over to Bobbi's bed. "She's gone."

"Who is?" The initial dread turned into despair as soon as Maria uttered her next words.

"Nat. She's gone."


	15. Ignoring Therapy

Bobbi _hated_ therapy.

It was the same thing every week: she'd sit in Andrew's office, evading every question he threw at her while somehow raising more questions. At the end, he'd smile, close his folder, and say they'd made progress. She'd leave that wood-polished office with the same amount of confusion she'd had when she went in.

And the worst part? She was sacrificing a whole _hour_ of sleep for these things. (If it wasn't for the fact that the voices in her head caused her to lose whole _nights_ of sleep, therapy would've been at the top of her shit list.)

"Dr. Garner," she said one morning, interrupting Andrew's flow of questioning. It'd been three weeks since her rescue, two since she'd been out of the med bay, and a week and a half since she'd been forcing herself up for SHIELD-mandated psychology hell. "Just what, exactly, is our purpose here?"

Andrew looked up, surprised. Bobbi hadn't spoken once of her own accord since she'd started. "What's our _purpose_ here?" he repeated, as if trying to understand the question.

Bobbi _really_ tried not to deck him. (After all, it wouldn't do well to injure her SO's husband. And besides, he was a good guy when he wasn't trying to psychoanalyze her.) "Yes," she answered in a clipped voice. "For the last week and a half, you've been asking me the same questions. Why?"

"Well, Agent Morse, if you'd answer the questions I have you, we wouldn't be here," Andrew answered, sighing as he flipped through another set of pages. "But you haven't answered any of them so far."

"That's because they're - can I be honest?"

Andrew raised a cautious eyebrow, but nodded. "By all means. This is meant to help you, not me."

"The questions are bullshit," Bobbi said matter-of-factly. "You're asking me if I'd change what happened to me, if there was anything in my life that had led me to that decision. That's bullshit," she dismissed. "What about an easy _how are you?_ That's not that hard, is it?"

"Very well, then," Andrew closed his file folder, setting it aside on his mohagony office desk. "How are you, Agent Morse?"

"Oh, well I'm _glad_ you asked," Bobbi simpered, settling back into her chair. "How about the fact that I'm waking up every night in a cold sweat? How about that I hate being here? How about the fact that May keeps treating me with kid gloves and that I haven't seen Maria since -" She clamped her mouth shut, not wanting to disclose Maria's hospital visit. "How about the fact that Nat runs away _every_ time I see her?"

Andrew had known about the first two - May had been abruptly shaken by the incident, Maria due in later to help her overcome her guilt - but Natasha was news. "What do you mean, Agent Romanoff's been avoiding you?"

"Exactly what I said," Bobbi groaned. "She won't even get near me. Every time I try to talk to her, she makes small talk and escapes. And Nat _sucks_ at small talk, Andrew. She's _awful._ "

Andrew pursed his lips, unsure. "Did you ever think that maybe she was dealing with a guilt complex of her own?" he finally asked.

Judging by Bobbi's confused expression, that _wasn't_ something she'd thought about. "Why would Nat have a guilt complex?" she asked slowly. "It wasn't her fault I got taken by the fucking mafia."

Andrew tilted his head, motioning to her that she finally understood. "Maybe that's something you should find out."

* * *

"Oh, shit, she's coming," Maria whispered at lunch. Both she and Natasha looked up in horror as they saw Bobbi across the cafeteria, a tray in her hand and a determined look on her face. "Quick, Nat, start scooting towards the door -"

"Romanoff. Hill," Bobbi said loudly, and Maria could hear Natasha's internal groan as the two of them were trapped at the table. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," Natasha said nervously as Bobbi sat down. "How've you been, Bobbi?"

"Just peachy, actually, Bobbi said, a steely venom in her voice as she stabbed at a cherry tomato. One wouldn't have been able to tell she was pissed, but Maria knew her well enough that she knew a storm was coming.

"I mean, good as I've been that my best friends haven't come to see me."

Maria and Natasha inhaled in unison, and Bobbi glared at them, shoving salad leaves into her mouth. Maria opened her mouth, feeling she had to start. "Look, Bobbi," she began. "You just got out of the med bay, and you've been in therapy. We didn't want to disturb you while you were recovering -"

" _Bullshit_ ," Bobbi hissed. "That's bullshit, and _especially_ for you, Romanoff." She turned to Natasha, who gulped and started shovelling down her sandwich. "I know you were there the night Maria came to see me," she accused with a point of her fork. "And just for reference, Nat? You _suck_ at small talk." With that, she launched up and stormed off, her fury tangible in her wake.

The two of them sat there, shock and resignation reigning through their systems. Finally, Maria sighed. "I gotta go. I have therapy in thirty."

"Yeah," Natasha answered absentmindedly, still staring after Bobbi's retreating figure. "I'll catch you later." Maria left quietly, leaving the redhead to her own tumultuous thoughts. She'd fucked up. Maria shouldn't have been the one to try and explain themselves; she'd been the innocent one in this whole thing. Natasha had fucked up the whole thing right from when she'd lost Bobbi.

She thought back to Bobbi's pointed words, to the hurt expression on her face. It'd clearly stated revulsion. Disgust. Clearly, not someone she wanted around any longer.

And if she wanted Natasha gone? Well, she'd make Bobbi's job easier.

She wondered if Coulson had any pressing missions.

* * *

"Well, the shit hit the fan today," Maria groaned bitterly to Andrew. "Bobbi caught up to Nat and I at lunch."

Andrew sighed quietly, looking up from his file. He'd seen this coming. "And what transpired?"

Maria gave him a weird look, but continued. "You were right. She bitched us out for avoiding her." She hung her head. "Doesn't she get that she needs to get better?" she suddenly demanded. "She can't just pretend like this entire thing didn't happen, Andrew!" When he didn't reply, she went. "I know what she saw. May may not have told me, but _I know_ what she saw. There's only one thing that's scary enough to power the drug, and that was because of me."

"Maria, we've been over this several times. You couldn't have controlled for the circumstances that had occurred back then - "

"I couldn't. Stop. It. From happening," Maria answered through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to punch him. "She was fucked over for _weeks_ after that, Andrew. I couldn't touch her for a month. _Me_. It took her another _five_ before she started sparring again. I can't afford that," she said sadly. "And the last time she flinched away, it was _because_ I was getting so close. I'm staying away this time."

"Maria," Andrew quietly pinched the bridge of his nose and made a note to call both women into a joint therapy session. "Did you tell Bobbi what you told me?"

"I didn't want to," Maria admitted. "Bobbi's altruistic to no end. I don't want her taking on my shit while she's so rattled with her own."

"And what about Agent Romanoff?" Andrew prompted gently. "You said she was colluding with you to stay away from Agent Morse."

"Nat's the only one who's taking it worse than me," Maria shrugged. "She won't accept that none of it's her fault, not even after Fury said she was clear after interrogations. I've tried to tell her so many times, but...no dice. And Bobbi getting pissed at her probably didn't help. God forbid she take that as a sign that she wants Nat out. I think Bobbi would actually go insane if Nat left."

"I'm going to let you go early this week, but only on the condition that you take this advice," Andrew shut his file and leaned forward, Maria mirroring his posture. "I want you to find Agent Romanoff, and then the both of you are going to find Agent Morse and resolve things. May's not inviting you to dinner until you do," he warned when Maria opened her mouth to protest. "Go, Maria. The three of you are strong friends. That's not something the intelligence community often sees. I'd like you three to keep that."

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Agent Romanoff?"

"I can't believe you'd agree to this, Phil," Blake complained irritably, flapping a hand at Natasha. "Sending the Russian traitor back into Russia? Are you crazy? She's either going to get herself killed! Or worse, expose us!"

"Are you doubting Agent Romanoff's talents in the field?" Coulson asked coolly, his posture shifting slightly so that he was standing protectively in front of Natasha. "I seem to remember last week you tapping out for the first time when she was sparring with you. I also distinctly remember the words 'I was going easy on you'." He watched as Blake blanched. "Still think she's going to risk the operation?"

"Still, you have to remember that this has been a long-standing operation," Hand chimed in. "If she blows it, that's three years of hard work and undercover agents reduced to nothing. Are you sure you want to risk a Level One agent on this op?"

"Just because she's Level One doesn't mean she can't handle the intricacies of this op," Coulson argued. "You all people, Agent Hand, should know that very well."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. Now she understood why the entire building would gather whenever May and Coulson had arguments. "I am perfectly aware that this mission could cost me my life," she cut in, bringing the discussion to a halt. "However, it is either I take this mission or I spend my days wallowing in my own guilt. I would prefer the former, if you please."

The gears turned in the upper SHIELD agents' brains as they thought it over. "We'll send her," Hand finally agreed, her tone uneasy. "But you're responsible for her, Coulson. One misstep and we leave her without a pot to piss in for the Russians."

"I'll take that as a yes," Coulson quipped as he handed a manila folder to Natasha. "Here's the details. We're sending you in to help out one of our undercover agents. He's been in at the KGB for a while, and he's known to be...difficult in handling tasks with maturity."

Natasha rolled her eyes. This was the high-stakes mission? "You want me to babysit him."

"...more or less?" Coulson asked. When Natasha raised an eyebrow, he retorted, "It was the most pressing mission we had. We figure if he had someone to watch him, he'd try to _not_ shoot the next foreign diplomat that insulted America."

"Unfortunately," Blake sighed in agreement. "Took us at least three weeks to get past those guy's lawyers."

"Your cover's going to be a novice trainee, fresh out of whatever the hell it is they do over there. You'll have to dye your hair. Maybe get a wig or something. Either way, you leave in three hours. Should be enough time to dye your hair, right?" Coulson was looking at her expectantly, and she sighed.

At least it beat catching Bobbi's glares at her every time they passed in the hallway. "Am I going blonde or brunette?"

* * *

"Nat?"

Maria wandered the hallways, feeling stupid as she called out Natasha's name over and over again. "Natasha Romanoff!" she called, feigning annoyance. "Persephone Putin!" (For some reason, that name had stuck after the initial change. Maria took to calling Natasha by that name whenever she was annoyed.) "Where the hell are you?"

"Are you looking for Romanoff, too?" May suddenly popped up out of nowhere, leaving Maria to jump about a foot in the air, clutching her chest.

" _Jesus,_ May!"

"I'd say I didn't mean to scare you, but I'd be lying," May shrugged. "Either way, you haven't seen Romanoff? She's not in therapy with Andrew, is she?"

"No," Maria shook her head. "She's the only one of us who isn't. Something about Andrew not wanting to deal with Russian psyches."

"Morse, maybe?"

"Highly unlikely, but let's kill two birds with one stone, shall we?" The two of them fell into step down the hallway, following the sound of hits against a punching bag that were echoing down the empty hall. Suddenly, they winced as they heard a _thud_ of the bag hitting the wall, and May sped up her pace imperceptibly.

They found Bobbi staring at the bag on the floor, her chest heaving. "May," she said as they entered the room, surprising coloring her tone. Her eyes narrowed at Maria. "Hill."

"Cut the crap," May said succinctly, and Bobbi turned to look at her in surprise. "Don't think that I don't know about whatever's going on between you three. I _am_ married to Andrew, remember that." Bobbi accepted that with a regal nod of her head, stepping over to May. "Now, Morse, you're just as guilty of miscommunication as Hill, but we can deal with that later. Have you seen Romanoff?"

If there was anything to surprise Bobbi further, it was that. "No," she said, this time more quietly. "I thought she was with Maria."

"She _was_ ," Maria explained. "I had therapy." Bobbi's eyes widened.

"You're slotted in with Andrew too?"

"How could I not be?" Maria exploded, throwing her hands into the air. "You're my best friend, Bobbi, and you just went through hell and back! The fact that you're acting like it didn't happen worries me, especially since you were so wrecked over it last time!"

"Well, maybe you would've been better informed if you'd _been there_ ," Bobbi insisted, stiffening.

"Oh, no, I learned from that one," Maria scoffed. "The last time I tried to be there, you ran away. I can't win with you, can I, _Barbara_?"

There was a pregnant pause. "Don't. _Call_. Me that," Bobbi threatened lowly.

May sighed loudly, reminding both women of her presence. "Ladies. Romanoff."

"Right," Maria said tersely, still not breaking her stare with Bobbi. "Have we asked Coulson yet?"

"I'd say we can go ask Coulson," Bobbi agreed, cocking her head slightly to match Maria's glare. "He'd probably have a good idea of where Nat is."

May was seriously resisting the urge to knock their heads together.

"I'm going to see Coulson," she said finally when the staring contest showed no signs of letting up. "You two can follow, if you'd like, or you can continue staring at each other. Hill, I'll tell Fury you've got a thing for Morse," was all she said before turning swiftly on her heel and heading out of the room.

"Wha - I - _no,_ " Maria spluttered finally when May left the room. "He's like, seven years older than me! Ew!"

"Still the youngest director since Peggy Carter," Bobbi acknowledged with a smirk. "You gonna do something about that, Hill, or not?"

Maria sighed. "C'mere, Morse," Bobbi took two cautious steps forwards, squeaking slightly when Maria slugged her in the shoulder before enveloping her in a hug. "You deserved that."

"They still won't tell me what happened," Bobbi whispered. "I have dreams. About being _burned_ and - and - and _stabbed_ , and they won't tell me what happened."

Maria's free hand curled into Bobbi's shoulder protectively. "We'll find out. I promise. But we have to find Nat first." Bobbi nodded, clutching her friend tightly. Natasha was going to be in for a _world_ of pain when they found her.

" _MORSE! HILL!_ "

Both girls turned to see a squabble of agents rushing down the hallway. Bobbi grabbed the nearest one, forcing her to stop. "What's going on, Morrison?"

"Coulson and May didn't tell you?" A synchronized head shake. "Romanoff asked to be sent off a few hours ago. Coulson sent her to babysit Barton in Russia."

"Okay, one, _why_ the hell did Nat ask to get sent away, two, _whose_ idea was it for her to babysit _Barton_ , that is the _worst_ idea in the history of bad ideas, and Barton has some pretty bad ones -! And three, _why_ Russia?!" There were _so_ many things wrong with this, Maria mused. Starting with Barton.

" _Did you ever think she may be dealing with guilt complex of her own?"_

The words hit Bobbi like an energized revolving door, and the magnitude of what she'd done suddenly came to fruition. "Oh, god," she whispered to no one in particular, holding a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my god."

"What?" Both Maria and the other agent had turned to her. "What, Bobbi?"

"She went away because of me," Bobbi whispered. "I sent her off."

"Wha -" Maria didn't even have time to process that. "Okay, we _seriously_ need to have some group therapy with Andrew on guilt," she ranted before turning back to the other agent. "What's the mass callout for?"

"Romanoff's plane was shot out of the sky halfway into the country. Somehow they figured out that Romanoff was planning to infiltrate the KGB, and Barton's cover is on its way to being blown." Morrison rattled off. "Last May heard, Romanoff's tracker showed her heading into the exact same base Barton's at. We don't have much time before things start to go wrong. May and Coulson are spearheading an extraction plan."

Maria grabbed Bobbi's arm, and the two of them shared a look. "You take the team rescuing Nat," Bobbi said. "I'm going for Barton."

"No, you're going for Nat," Maria insisted. "I'll deal with Barton." She winced. "Worst comes to worst, he'll blow up the place himself and then I won't have to talk him out of playing Connect 4 with grenades."


	16. Old Enemies and New Friends

_SPLASH!_

Natasha bolted up as the icy cold water hit her face. The straps against her wrists jerked her backwards, causing her to land back on the metal cot with a loud thud.

"Ah, so it still works," the man who'd splashed her sneered. "Our intelligence has not failed us." The cold water that'd been splashed on her face washed inexplicably though her veins. There was only one group that knew the quickest way to wake a Red Room agent, defected or not.

"KGB," she whispered quietly, and the man above her snickered.

"Not as tough as you were, are you?" Natasha closed her eyes, mentally checking for injuries or drugs. None, it seemed. Whoever had done this had clearly expected anyone but her.

"I suppose not," she purred resignedly. "You seem to have caught me at a loss. What _ever_ am I to do?"

"You were found in a SHIELD ship," The words were sharp and demanding. "I want to know what SHIELD was doing in Russia."

"Obviously, the KGB is severely lacking in their outside intelligence," Natasha snorted, testing the bonds tightened against her wrists. "Forgive us for not having asked your permission to pass through Russia in order to get to Shanghai. We'd really not pass over the Middle East at the moment."

"So you do not deny that you are part of SHIELD."

"That's what's bothering you?" Natasha asked. "You can ask me anything, and you ask me about being a SHIELD agent. Amazing, you all are."

"And what do you think will happen when the Red Room realizes that one of their prized subjects has betrayed them for an American intelligence agency?" Natasha fought the urge to sigh. This man _seriously_ still thought he had the upper hand?

"I would be utterly astonished if they hadn't already denounced me dead," she answered archly. "The moment I walked off of the Olympic grounds, I was a traitor to their cause. So no, I'm not particularly worried about upsetting them with the paltry fact that I'm alive."

(Actually, the only working modern serum running through her veins was a good motivator, Natasha mused, tugging slightly at her bonds once more. But apparently they hadn't written down the specifics, so she was safe - for now.)

"There are, as you may know, secrets that the Red Room kept, even from their closest partner," he said, one finger tapping against the bucket. "And having you here is a pleasant boon to help...divulge some of those secrets. So tell me. What do you know?"

"I don't think I'd have anything you don't already know," Natasha hedged, unsure of what the man was trying to get at. The bonds were easy - it was just a matter of extracting information. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know about the serum," Irrational fear nipped at Natasha, herand for a moment, all of her training vanished.

"What serum?" she asked. Her voice, which had chosen that exact moment to betray her, cracked, and the man chuckled. _Goddammit, Natasha,_ she berated herself. _Get your shit together._ Deep and out. "I don't know anything about what you're talking about."

A heavy blow instantly rocked her chair backwards as her captor slapped her across the face. "Nice try, _Romanova,_ " he hissed. Natasha stiffened at the sound of her old name. "I remember you now." Cocking his head, he began to circle around her, watching her as a bird would its prey. "The loudmouthed one. For some reason, they never shut up about you." Natasha sat still, frozen at the thought of what he might say next. "The only successful Black Widow in the entire program."

Clearly, he'd done his homework.

"You know, they're looking for you," he continued almost casually, working himself into a tangent now that he'd realized he had the _one and only_ Natalia Romanova in captivity. "They've worked themselves into quite the frenzy, realizing that they've let a threat loose into the world."

"Well, they can work themselves into a frenzy," They'd have to drag her back kicking and screaming before she'd willingly become their slave again. As a matter of fact, they'd probably have to kill her first. "I'm not going back there. Try what you might."

"Oh, I don't think I have to try," Grinning evilly, the man held up a syringe, the needle gleaming off of the faint light already in the room. " _I_ won't have to make you try, anyways." He took a few steps towards her, and Natasha shrunk back internally as a hand landed on her shoulders, dangerously gentle.

"Your emotions will do that for you."

* * *

"Any sign of her?" Bobbi asked for what must've been the fiftieth time. She was pacing up and down the holding air, her hands jammed into her pockets as the techie behind her worked furiously.

"For the last time, _no_ ," Clearly, the techie was just as annoyed as she was. "I've told you a hundred times, Morse, I haven't patched onto her tracker yet." A sly grin split his face. "Although I might be motivated to work faster if you go on a date with me."

Bobbi turned to Coulson. " _Please let me punch him._ "

"Negative, Agent Morse," he answered, but he was smirking. "Save your violence for when we get on the ground. You're going to be needed when we get Romanoff out of there."

Bobbi nodded. That moment couldn't come soon enough. If _one_ more agent asked her out, there was going to be more than one death on Russian soil.

"There!" the techie suddenly shouted, and they all looked over to see a bright flash of heat before the screen returned to normal. Coulson suddenly looked concerned, and he ambled over to the display.

"Replay it again," he ordered, and when Bobbi gave him a weird look, he just nodded. "Wait. I'll explain to you in a second." The screen rewinds quickly, the heat-sensing technology flashing a bright red for a second before going gray. "I knew it," Turning to the rest of the agents, he began issuing orders in a rapid-fire address. "They've got the drug again. She could turn on us. Be prepared." A flurry of noise went up, and he turned back to Bobbi and the techie. "Morse, get ready. We drop in five."

"But sir, what did you mean by -?" But it was too late - Coulson had already left. Sighing, Bobbi picked up her radio headset, tuning it until she caught Maria's frequency. "How's it going on your end, Hill?"

"ETA in thirty minutes," Maria answered. "Looks like Barton's relatively safe for now, but there's no telling how much longer it'll last. What's the latest with you?"

"We found Nat, but Coulson's not telling me jackshit about what just went down. Ria, they said something about a drug and Nat turning on us? What's going on? How do we know about this?" Bobbi pressed the earbud harder into her ear canal, wanting to hear every word.

"The drug?" Maria asked, her voice taking on an urgency. "Did you say they used the drug on her, Bobbi?"

"Yeah, but what the hell's going on?" Bobbi demanded, determined to get an answer. "And what did Coulson mean about Nat turning on us?"

"This isn't a conversation we should be having over radio -"

"Damn fucking right we're going to have it over the radio!" Bobbi shouted. "You had _better_ tell me what the _hell_ is going on, Maria Hill, and I'm not getting off this set until you fucking tell me!"

"Agent Morse, get ready to jump." Bobbi whirled around to see the cargo bay opening. Around her, agents were strapping on parachutes, ready to go. She couldn't. Not yet; not when they had no idea what they were walking into! Not when there was a drug running through Natasha's system that they had no idea how to cure!

"Sir, we can't jump -"

" _Now!_ " Bobbi ripped off the headset and sprinted towards the launch doors, strapping on her parachute on the way.

"Fall into formation once on the ground!" she yelled to her team as she skidded to the front. "Do not engage unless fired upon! We don't know what we're facing down there! Are we clear?" When there was no response, she tried again. Apparently, recruits at the Academy nowadays didn't know how to respond to their commanding officers. "ARE WE CLEAR?"

"YES MA'AM!"

"ROLL OUT!" And one by one, they fell out of the sky.

* * *

"Do we have eyes on Barton?"

Hand looked up from where she was looking at the monitors. "Not yet," she sighed. "But I've got eyes on the compound. Doesn't look like it'll be easy to get in."

"We might not even have to go in," May said quietly. "If there's not enough uproar with Romanoff, then we might not have to get him out."

"May," Maria tore in, looking panicked. "I just got word from Bobbi. They're about to jump - but their eyes just got wind of a strange heat emission. It looked like the one that Bobbi had when they had her..." May swore and turned to Hand.

"It's the same drug. Tell Coulson to go in hot." Hand nodded, reaching for her radio set. May turned back to Maria. "Hill, if they get Romanoff back to the KGB base, hell will break loose. Be ready to break out Barton if necessary."

"Explosions on the ground," Hand called, and both women hurried over to the main screen. "Same location where we they just found Barton's signal." At that, the plane went into a flurry of activity, agents organizing themselves into various groups and arming each other with weapons. May, for her part, grabbed Maria's wrist, handing the agent several grenades, guns, and knives.

"You get in, you find Barton, you get out," she hissed, sliding another knife into Maria's waiting hand. "You don't do another _thing_. You don't try and pull some bullshit macho move and try and find Romanoff, do you hear me?"

Maria sighed. "Goddammit, May, it was _one_ time!"

"It's still worth repeating." The doors to the loading bay opened, and agents began to file off of the plane, their parachutes exploding into existence. "Get in, get out, and most of all, make sure Barton doesn't fuck up."

"Yeah," Maria took a deep breath and jumped, saving the rest of her sentence for when she was out of May's earshot. "That's not happening, May."

* * *

"Усадьба."

He turned, willing his heart not to sink when he saw the two burly armed guards approaching. "Что это?" Maybe there was some sort of mistake. There was no way he was ready to pull out yet. One, he hadn't gotten all of the information Fury had wanted. Two, he'd only been four weeks in - the op was for eight. And three? He hadn't finished the borschtstink bomb in his quarters yet.

But when the guards reached for their weapons, he sighed. Just when he'd gotten used to sleeping on a giant cement block, too.

His first strike was coupled with a large amount of explosions to the outer walls, and he took advantage of the guards' confusion to knock them out and snag their explosives - why _any_ KGB guard carried explosives on them was up to anyone's interpretation - while scrambling down the hallway towards the source of the commotion.

"Hill?"

Maria had been expecting him, apparently. She groaned, shifting back to her professional demeanor immediately. "Good to see you. I'm tasked to get you out of here."

"Wow. Guess someone didn't want the duty of cleaning the poop deck," He smirked at her scowl, the two of them automatically assuming a defensive stance, keeping an eye out for other shooters. "How many of them are there?"

"Two teams." Maria's answers were prompt. "Coulson's on one and May's heading up mine."

"They get together yet?" They moved in sync, guns echoing as they systematically took out squadrons of guards. He squinted through the dust, making the 'all clear' sign when not a soul was found.

"No, unfortunately. I still don't know why you placed your bet so far out. That's _so_ not going to happen."

"I like to keep my options open." He elbowed a guard in the kidney, taking the opportunity to shoot him in the sternum while incapacitating another with his foot. "You know the way out?"

"Yeah, it's just this -" Maria was cut off as a sharp elbow was driven into her windpipe, forcing her to double over. He looked up to see several men surrounding her, delivering a knockout blow to her head before tying her up and dragging her away.

"Now, now, gentlemen, let's be civil about this," he said, putting his hands up when they turned to him. "I'm sure there's another way we can work this out - oof!"

"Тихо, идиот." He grunted as his limbs were tied, his gun confiscated. Roughly, they dragged him down a hallway, muttering the entire time in what seemed to be about traitors growing on trees now. The guard that hadn't thrown him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry yanked open a door, growled something into it, and made a motion. His carrier nodded and unceremoniously tossed him in, not bothering to give him or the second occupant another look before slamming the door shut.

(Thank god they hadn't taken his explosives.)

"Who the hell are you?"

He blinked as the lights flickered on, revealing a haughty redheaded woman sitting in the corner, almost bored. Green eyes looked him over disinterestedly once before asking again. "Who the hell are you?"

Well, whoever the hell _she_ was, _she_ was someone worth getting to know. No one looked once at him and refused.

"Hi," He stuck his hand out, and she took it cautiously. "I'm Clint Barton. Agent of SHIELD." He grinned widely. "How do you feel about playing Connect Four with some C4?"


	17. Reunion

"May?"

"Hill?"

Silence. _"Phil_?"

More silence. "Oh, shit."

* * *

"So tell me, Romanoff," Clint drawled, putting his feet up on the chair Natasha had recently vacated. She scowled at him, faux-wrinkling her nose at a smell that wasn't actually there. "What brings you here - or, rather, _back_ , should I say - to lovely Mother Russia? If you're looking for tourism, I suggest the Maldives. They're a little warmer. Y'know. Just barely."

"I was here to break you out, but apparently, you require no assistance," Natasha deadpanned right back, her face showing no flicker of expression whatsoever. Clint had made it a goal of his to get her to smile once - at least _once!_ \- before they made it out of this frozen hellhole. So far, no luck. "Russia has an interest in me. They believe I have a serum in my veins. It could, if used upon a human, match statistics on par with Captain America's."

"Whoa," Clint's eyes were wide. "Do you get a vibranium shield, too?"

Natasha laughed - a brief snort interspersed with a sound of disbelief - and Clint decided that hearing her laugh was his new goal. "Try appealing _that_ one to Fury," she said, rolling her eyes. "I can almost imagine him shooting you down with his one eye."

Clint was interrupted from his next one-liner by a series of explosions. They cocked their heads, listening. "Armed men," he said finally. "Explosives. Semi-automatics. Axes."

"They don't know we're here," Natasha added after another moment. "We can take them by surprise. What do you have on you?"

He stared at her, impressed. "A shit ton of C4 and an incredible knack of turning anything into a Connect 4 board." Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"No wonder they sent me to babysit you. Is that all you've got?"

"Nah, Fury sent you because he so dearly wanted to see my face," Clint quipped. "Yeah, that's all I've got. They took my weapons when they dragged me in here."

Natasha sighed, blowing some of her ruby bangs out of her face. "I can work with that. How fast can you recover from a punch?"

"Pretty quick, why -" He was cut off when Natasha threw open the door and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him down the hallway. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and he could almost make out her apologetic expression before she punched him in the face.

"What? Nat, what the hell was that for?" The command was barely out of his mouth before she punched him in the face again, this time causing blood to spurt out of his nose. This caught the attention of the guards, and they turned to look at her appraisingly.

"Американская девочка нашла моль," one of them said finally, raising his eyebrows. Natasha stayed still, a hand still tightly wrapped around Clint's collar. "Я не думаю, что она собиралась сделать это."

"вы недооцениваете меня." Her voice was flat and inflectionless, Clint noted. A cold voice...but it hadn't been the voice she'd used with him earlier. No, this one rang of submission and the desire to serve. A shiver wracked his spine. Mind control wasn't fun for anyone; he'd had his fair share of friends who'd gone through it. "Посадите его с другими."

"What?" he whispered, jerking slightly against her grip on his collar. "Nat, what's going on? Why are you doing this? You know I can understand Russian!" Had he really been that easy to dupe? All because of a pair of striking green eyes and an air of disinterest? Had she really been working for the other side all this time?

The answering glint in Natasha's eyes showed no sign of the girl he'd met earlier, and the fear tightened itself in Clint's chest. She really had been playing him this whole time. No wonder she hadn't taken an interest in him.

Then it again, it meant that he was still capable of charming every woman he came across. But for some reason, that triumph didn't top the fact that Natasha had just sold him out to the KGB. It cut into him more than it should've, but for reasons he couldn't name.

Another guard picked him up roughly, dragging him down the hallway towards the other cells. "Don't mess up my hair!" he yelped, receiving a smack on the back when he did. "It takes hours to do every morning! You guys would know! I'm the one that hogs the bathrooms!"

He only got a grunt in return as the door to a dark abyss was flung open, Clint flung unceremoniously into the closet for the second time that day. At least the other one had been lit. "Hello...?" he called out uncertainly. "Anyone there...?"

"Oh, thank God. You didn't play C4 Connect Four."

"Well, she left me before I could challenge her...wait, you know about that?" Clint scrambled back, his back touching what seemed to be some sort of brick wall. "Who the hell are you and how do you know things about us? I just met her!"

Maria sighed loudly. "She's one of my best friend _s_ , Barton. Now tell me where the hell she went off to so we can go get her."

"She went to the inner sanctum," Clint interjected immediately, garnering a look from her. "Anytime the base goes on lockdown, everyone goes into the inner sanctum on the idea that it's a shelter. It was mostly for the nuclear drills, actually. No one's actually made enough trouble to set it off."

"How do we get in?" Clint did a double take at the voice.

" _Phil?_ The hell are you doing here?"

"Hi," May said flatly, and Clint nearly jumped out of his skin. "Still as jumpy as when we left you, I see."

"Mel!" he called cheekily, cheering silently to himself when he didn't get a glare in return. "Is that everyone?" The three of them exchanged looks among themselves. "Oh, no, you didn't bring Morse on this mission, did you?" When there was no response, his gut sunk even lower. "You brought Morse. Great. My day just gets even worse from here."

"I'd say your day's already bad enough," May said. "Your cover's blown, I assume."

"Yeah, only cause the bitch sold me out," Clint muttered. "Oh, yeah, did I tell you? Your supposed new agent sold me out! Punched me right in the face! Twice! And handed me over to the guards! After she rejected me!"

Maria sighed. "Only _you_ would be concerned about being rejected, Barton."

If Coulson and May exchanged looks, Clint couldn't tell. "Do you think it's the -?"

"It's gotta be. Or he was an asshole, I can't tell."

"I was _not_ an asshole!"

"Could've happened," Coulson and May chorused. Maria snickered.

"I think May's right," she said quietly. "It could be that the serum was operating on her when she sold him out. As annoying as he might be." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just hope Bobbi doesn't find her. There's too much she doesn't know."

"Our number one priority is getting out," Coulson told her. "Barton, you restrained?"

"...no? Although if you're up for that, we can totally arrange for a -"

"Shut your mouth before I do it for you," May's threat was quiet. "Are you bound or not?"

"N-no, ma'am. Agent May."

"Good. Get us out." Clint quickly lurched to work at the knots tying each agent's limbs together, and soon, they were standing, shaking themselves to get the circulation flowing again. "Now we go find Morse. Head her off from trying to find Romanoff."

"We don't have weapons," Maria point out.

Clint grinned. "Nope!"

"Oh, no,"

"Unfortunately," Coulson groaned. "Everyone, pick a side."

* * *

"Nat?" Bobbi roamed through the hallways, her batons out and at the ready. "Nat, where are you?" She was flying blind, and she hated it. Every move was that much less sure, the outcome that much blurrier.

She hated it.

She'd already checked several hallways, most of them empty save for stark white medical beds, each of them with thin blankets and IV bags. Bobbi shuddered to think about what had happened there. She shuddered again to think about Natasha in that same situation.

Another spin of the batons. "Nat?" Still no answer. She refused to let the panic rise in her, and gripped her batons more tightly instead. The sooner she found Nat, the sooner they'd get out of here. "Nat!"

 _Don't you think it's funny no one's come for you yet?_ Bobbi frowned at the inner voice in her head. It had a point - she hadn't been at all subtle about calling Natasha's name, and yet she hadn't met anyone yet. _Something's wrong, Bobbi. Keep your guard._

For some reason, the voice in her head sounded suspiciously like May's.

Ahead, a large, creaky metal door revealed a grimy nuclear symbol, the faint Russian lettering just enough for Bobbi to make out. "Nuclear fallout shelter," she murmured. "The hell?" She reached for the handle, pulling it open. It was pitch black inside, and cautiously, Bobbi stepped in. With a loud squeak, the door shut behind her, the complete darkness causing her to jump a little. _Agents don't jump._

"I know, I know, May." Fishing a flashlight out of her pocket, she shone it around the room. "What do we have here..."

She never saw it coming.

A heavily muscled body was on her before she could react, weighing her down and trying to snatch her batons. Bobbi growled, trying to strike back, but her limbs were being held against her body. Her assailant knocked her flashlight out of her hands, stripping her of her weapons.

Then, a heavily booted foot in her back, and Bobbi hit the floor on all floors, barely stopping herself from biting her tongue in half. _It was glossy_ , she mused, frowning as a glint caught her eye. Glossy hardwood floors, a glint...was she in a _ballet studio?_

" _Get up."_ The command was snarled, a guttural Russian accent that chilled her to the bone. Bobbi stayed where she was, panting but defiant. " _Get. Up."_

"Fuck...you,"

" _Grab her."_ Bobbi made a mental note to ask May for more darkness trainings as she was hauled to her feet, her hands cruelly yanked behind her back. Her shoulders screamed jn protest. _"Since you will not obey, you will be made to obey."_

"Go to hell." A harsh spotlight clicked on, forcing Bobbi to squint for a moment as it blinded her. Instantly, a tan, glossy floor and rectangular mirror panel came into view. She'd been right. Ballet studio. _But what the hell was it doing in a fallout shelter?_

"The American agent, still with her head held high," Another man came into view, all greasy skin and matted hair. The hand pinning Bobbi's hands tightened, but she still dared to lift her chin another inch. Her green eyes followed him around the room as he paced, daring him to make a move. "So sure of herself, yet foolish enough to walk right into our trap."

"I meant to, of course." He laughed at that, gravel rocks scratching a chalkboard and twisting in Bobbi's stomach. She kept her head up - her pride wouldn't let her look down. "Where's Romanoff?"

"Romanoff?" That derisive laugh again. "We know no one by such a name. Are you sure this _Romanoff_ exists?" He grabbed her chin and swooped down to look her square in the eyes. It took all Bobbi had not to turn her chin away forcefully. "Perhaps what you seek is a lost cause, Agent Morse."

She took a deep breath. _Sorry, Nat._ "Romanova," she said through gritted teeth. "I want to know what the _hell_ you did to Romanova."

"Ah, Romanova." The man sneered at that. "That feisty little bitch. Yes, we took good care of her. Didn't we?" he snapped at another waiting man. The other man immediately shot up to attention, giving him a salute and an affirmation that made Bobbi's stomach turn. "Yes, she was easily disposed of. In fact, I might say that you will be meeting her shortly."

The turn grew more violent, rioting in Bobbi's stomach until it threatened to return into the environment via her throat. Still, her visage remained stoic, her lower lip even jutting out in defiance. "Where is she?"

"Natalia," the man called, almost lazily, and stepped back. The group behind him parted, the spotlight moving to reveal a lone figure dressed in black, her head bowed. Bobbi frowned at the halo the light seemed to cast off against her hair. _Nat?_

The girl looked up, and there was no mistaking the piercing hate in Natasha's green eyes as she seemed to stare right past Bobbi. It was a look that chilled Bobbi to the bone, and she couldn't help shuddering. This wasn't the girl she knew. This was a shell of a servant, made to obey every word spoken into her ear without question.

She _had_ to get that Natasha back. Whatever it took. She knew it was in there somewhere...she'd just have to find the right conversation that could bring it back.

But the man had other plans, it seemed.

"Finish her."


	18. Connect the Dots and Bombs

The hallways were oddly empty, Clint frowned as he scanned the concrete walls. At the very least, there should've been a shift of guards constantly rotating the corner. Something was off. Even more so than when SHIELD had invaded the base. Still frowning, he turned back to where Maria, Coulson and May were all huddled in a group behind him. "Clear." They traversed forwards, stealing along the darkened corridor single file.

Clint stopped suddenly, and the result was a mild cacophony as May collided with Maria, who in turn collided with Coulson. "What the actual fuck, May," Maria hissed, holding her head. "I could've shot you."

"You do that, I'll shoot you right before I go down," May shot back, rolling her eyes as she checked her gun. "Why'd we stop, Barton? And if you say because you saw a squirrel or something, I will have you demoted faster than you can say 'Hill loves Fury'."

" _I do not!_ "

"I still think that's up for discussion," Clint smirked at her, his eyes sweeping the area above them. "And I was checking for the rafter ladder. If we can get up there without being detected, we'll have a good shot at taking out a good number of these bastards." He spotted the telltale ladder a small ways down the hallway, and made a hand motion, starting towards it.

"I still don't get why everyone thinks I have a thing for Fury," Maria hissed, still scowling. "Have you _seen_ the number of people that fawn over Coulson every week?" The tension suddenly radiating from May was absolutely palpable. "I'll take that as a yes."

Clint busied himself hauling the rusty, ricketed ladder from its holster, putting a foot on it to test its rungs. "It's good," he whispered. "One at a time, and we can get into the inner sanctum through the rafters."

Coulson nodded and followed Clint as soon as he began to climb, leaving Maria and May to jab at one another. "For the _last time,_ Hill, I don't care if Phil gets the same girl every week. What he does on his off time is none of my business."

"It's not?" Maria smirked, beginning to climb as soon as Coulson had made his way up. "Then why does your time in the gym _coincidentally_ happen to be right after debriefings with Coulson?"

"I swear to god, Hill, I'll shoot you. I'll even make it look like an accident. No one would be able to tell the difference."

"Do you hear that?" Clint asked suddenly, and all of them went silent as they cocked their ears to listen. If they tried hard enough, they could just barely make out guttural cheers, interspersed with the occasional thudding of colliding limbs. "It sounds like..."

Maria swore under her breath. "Nat. We gotta get up there, and ASAP."

* * *

"I'm not going to fight you," With each passing comment, the desperation in Bobbi's chest was threatening to rip itself from her being, and she ducked again as Natasha's foot flew over her head, still refusing to as so much move a muscle offensively in her direction. "You're _in_ there somewhere, Nat. I know it!"

"You're certainly more empathetic than the others," Natasha sent an easy punch into Bobbi's gut, laughing when the other girl fell back, all of the air punched out of her. "Is that a new thing they've been teaching you? How to be swayed by empathy?"

"No, it's not, Nat, you're my best friend, I swear -" Tears shimmered in Bobbi's eyes as she held her stomach, visage full of pain but determined to not hurt Natasha. "I don't want to hurt you! Please!"

"You're wasting your time," Natasha sneered, sweeping out Bobbi's legs from under her. The crowd of thugs cheered as the blonde crumpled weakly to the ground, curled into the fetal position. "I learned to control my emotions years ago. They warned me people would try this, try to tell me that I had a _choice_." Bobbi winced, choking back a sob. Those had been the same words she'd told Natasha back at the Olympic dorms. "They _lied_."

"I wasn't lying to you when I said that, Nat, you _do_ have a choice!" Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut as Natasha's booted foot met her face. Crimson liquid flooded her face, the coppery tang seeping its it way between her lips and sounding off on her tongue. It tasted of disappointment and betrayal, but most of all, it was a reminder of the fact that she'd failed her best friend, just like she'd failed everyone else. Failed to keep the frat boys from getting to her. Failed to keep herself from getting taken, failed to keep Nat from getting taken.

" _Finish her_. _"_ Bobbi flinched when she heard the words. Was this going to be her last moment? Death at the hands of her best friend who wasn't really her best friend at all? She closed her eyes, bracing herself. For some odd reason, preparing for death had been one of the classes everyone had been made to take at the Academy. They rang in her mind now, drowning out all of her surroundings. _Clear your mind. Take a breath. Say your goodbyes. Short and sweet. Mom, Dad. Maria. May. Coulson. Fuck you, Barton._

The final blow never came.

* * *

BOOM.

"I still don't think this is fair," Coulson complained. "Barton's an expert at these things and May's ruthless. How are we supposed to win?" Beside him, Maria let out a snort.

"I take offense to that one, Phil. I could beat your ass in Connect 4 any day."

"Red or black?" Clint held out two sticks of dynamite, both of them clearly labelled with the words 'red' and 'black', respectively. The rest of them looked at the sticks skeptically. "Just choose a color before I assign them, nerds."

May sighed. "Red." Clint handed her the red C4, and she immediately launched a stick into the void, the crowd below them going silent as the explosion rang through the air. Even Natasha stopped for second to turn, her eyes scanning upwards. "Your move, Phil."

Maria lobbed her stick before Coulson could confer with her, the explosion coloring all of the deceased men with black paint. Natasha's eyes were more quickly scanning the rafters now, forcing all of them to duck before trying to score another hit. As soon as the action started up once again below, all four of them were tossing their C4 rapidly one after another.

"B5!" May yelled amongst the explosions as Clint raised his arm to fire again. "No, not E5, you idiot! B5!" She raced up to the edge of the rafter, snatching the stick from him as Coulson fired his shot in the exact spot where May had planned. "You just cost us the round!"

"I wonder how stupid they have to be to not realize that we're firing at them from above," Maria said dryly. "I knew Russian grunts were stupid, but not this stupid." She fired another stick of dynamite into the crowd, cheering as the square she hit elicited a round of shouting from the men. "Connect four, bitches!"

"Dammit!" Clint let another stick fly. "Round three, round three!"

* * *

 _BOOM. BOOM. BOOM._

Bobbi shut her eyes against the onslaught of explosions, involuntarily gasping as one reverberated in her eardrums way much too loudly for her liking. _Get up, Morse. Get up._ Her brain was telling her nerves to tell her spine to move, but somehow, she couldn't muster up the appropriate reactions to get to her feet. Around her, the explosions continued, and she shuddered, too focused on Natasha's betrayal to think about anything else.

Of _course_ she'd fuck up. She always had. May had been right to chew her out for bringing Natasha back; it was something she shouldn't have even thought about in the first place. She should've acted the perfect little SHIELD agent - shoot or disarm and ask questions later. But _no_ , she'd _had_ to go and prove that she could rise above her role and brought back one of the shiftiest agents of the Red Room in its history, while all the while proving that she could be trusted? Bobbi snorted to herself. _Yeah, sure, Morse. That worked out swell. You're in the middle of an abandoned warehouse about to get killed by your possessed best friend. Who you can't even call your best friend, because hell, you don't even know them._

Somehow, amidst the fighting, the leader had barrelled over to Natasha, who had snapped to attention while Bobbi was curled up on the floor. "Finish her!" he commanded, pointing an accusatory finger at her. Bobbi trembled - she couldn't help it. Some people tended to shit themselves before certain death. She trembled. In her opinion, it was a lot better than shitting. If she lived, she'd have to get some _serious_ dry cleaning done.

When Natasha stood stock still, he tried again. "Her, Romanov!" he growled, slapping her across the face and pointing to Bobbi again. "Finish her. Or do you want to be punished?" Bobbi sucked in a breath as he slapped her again. "Do what I told you to!" He pressed a gun into her hand and pointed it at Bobbi. "Now," he growled harshly. "Pull the trigger."

 _Goodbye, Mom, Dad, May, Phil, Maria. Fuck you, Barton. Mom, Dad, May, Maria, Phil. Mom Dad May Phil Maria Mom Dad May Phil Maria fuck you Barton Mom Dad Mom Dad Maria Phil -_

 _BANG_.

Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the moment the cold, hard metal shell splintered into pieces in her skull. When no such impact came, she cringed. They had to make her tense first, didn't they? It would hurt more if she wasn't relaxed!

 _BANG. BANG. BANG._ The sound of Natasha's war cries filtered through the air, and Bobbi's eyes snapped open to see Natasha beating up the men she'd just worked for, kicking their heads in with a precision known only to the Red Room. Her lunch threatened to make a reappearance at the sudden turn of events, and she could only croak "What...how...what?"

With another yell, Natasha butted another man with her pistol, grinning as he fell. "KGB keeps the shittiest records," she said cheerfully. "You'd think for a government agency, they'd keep better records, but nope."

"What the _hell,_ Nat?"

"Oh, cheer up," Natasha bent down, offering Bobbi a hand. "You didn't know that the drug they used on me was over five years old. I was immune to that version even before I got stuck with the one they used on you."

Despite the clench of relief coursing through Bobbi's body, one thing rang in her mind. "What do you mean, 'drug that they stuck me with'?" Natasha flinched for a minute, her jade eyes wide. "Nat, what do you know that I don't?"

"We have a lot to talk about. But first, let's get out of here." Natasha kicked another man in the stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. "It looks like Barton started playing Connect 4 with C4, which means I'm betting at least one other person is with him. Any more sticks and they're going to bring down the building." She leaned over a man, frowning, and pulled out a set of batons. "I believe these are yours, Ms. Morse."

* * *

"What the hell?" Clint shouted as Natasha suddenly turned and shot her commander, blood spurting out of his cranium faster than he could say 'Hawkeye hits'. "Are you telling me we just got triple crossed?"

"I'm going to _kill_ Morse when we get back," May muttered darkly. "Not only does she make us trust a double agent, we trust a _triple_ agent that has her own agenda. This could be dangerous, Phil. Fire up the C4."

"Not yet," Coulson warned. "Let's see what she's going to do first." They watched as Natasha grinned and offered a hand to a disbelieving Bobbi, helping her to her feet. The redhead in question seemed to peer over several men before leaning over one, pulling out a set of batons and handing them to Bobbi. "Well, I'll be damned." He turned to May. "Let's rendezvous."

She nodded, pressing a finger to her ear. "Morse, you and Romanoff get to the QuinJet. You two have a lot of explaining to do."

"Don't tell me I have to ride a plane with Morse!" Clint groaned loudly. "I'll do anything, May, I swear to God. Just _please_ don't make me ride with Morse. The last time we ended up on a plane together, she nearly pitched the pilot out of the escape hatch."

"Hey, watch it," Maria scowled at him. "That's my best friend you're talking about there. And I don't know why the hell you're so invested in making Bobbi's life hell. You seem to have gotten over her pretty quick."

Clint nearly stopped in his tracks. "Who the hell are you talking about?"

"Romanoff," May and Maria answered in unison.

"I do _not_ have feelings towards her! She rejected me, for fuck's sake! I'm not that desperate!"

"Whatever you say," Maria rolled her eyes. "I still think you two'll be having kids by 2016."

"2016 is a long way from now, Hill. I bet you and Bald Blackbeard will be married by then."

"Deal."

"Deal." With straight faces, they spat into their palms and shook hands. Coulson rolled his eyes and looked away. Kids.

"I thought you said you didn't have a thing for Fury, Hill." May's cool voice intruded into the swagger of their agreement, and for a moment, they both jumped, looking at the superior officer with wide eyes.

"I didn't - I don't -" Maria looked back and forth between a smirking Clint and May. "God _dammit,_ you two! _"_


	19. Love and Secrets

It was a tense ride back.

Clint and Bobbi spent a good part of it just trading glares, the former's hand twitching towards one of his leftover sticks of C4, the other casually yet threateningly twirling her batons. Maria had to glance between one and the other to make sure the situation wouldn't dissolve into full out warfare. Natasha, on the other hand, was immersed in a deep discussion with May, explaining for what she thought felt like the fiftieth time that she had never been a double (or hell, even a triple) agent, she'd just seen an opportunity to get out and taken it.

Whenever she mentioned _that,_ Bobbi would wince and rub her stomach, causing Clint to make a pregnancy joke. That started the cycle all over again.

Honestly, Coulson was just glad he'd made it out alive.

As soon as the jet touched down, he was the first one off of the plane, scrambling madly to his office before the third world war could break out. He received some weird looks as he ran, limbs askew, but better that than get caught in the crosshairs.

May and Natasha were the next ones off, headed towards the dreaded debrief. Maria gave Bobbi and Clint a LookTM before disembarking, leaving the two of them in an explosive silence.

It was Bobbi who spoke first, still clutching her gut like she had been during the entire flight. "I could've handled myself, Clint."

"Sweetheart, that wasn't for you," he snarked back, rolling his eyes. Bobbi had _always_ made it about herself when they were together, and while _he_ considered himself narcissistic, Bobbi was a whole other level. "We were clearly trying to save Nat, because you were doing _so_ well on your own -"

"You don't get to call her that," she hissed, blue eyes flashing menacingly. "She's _Natasha_ to you, Barton, not _Nat_ or whatever stupid little pet name you've made up. She's _my_ friend. Not yours. Find some other bitch who'll fall into your bed."

"For some time, you did," he shot back, smirking when he saw her flinch. "Until _you_ , hilariously hypocritically, decided you _hated_ when people kept secrets from you." Brown eyes darkened. "I'm always going to remember the fact that I hacked your file instead of being permitted access to it."

"Everyone has secrets." Hers was as big as a night sky and burning candles, a terror in her stomach too foul to name. "Maybe you should learn that."

"Maybe you should learn that for yourself." Clint smiled grimly. "What do youknow about the super-soldier serum?"

Bobbi hesitated, and it showed on her face. Clint's smirk only grew wider. The other shoe was about to drop, and heavily. "It's a myth, isn't it? It was used on Captain America in the forties, but he went into the ice."

"So you don't know everything," She frowned at him. "Intelligence has it that the Russian government managed to get a decent replica of the serum and it only worked in one agent. SHIELD sent me in to try and see if they were in the KGB." When her frown only grew deeper, he rolled his eyes. "There's only one reason I'm telling you this story, Morse."

"Because you're an ass and you like to brag about your assignments?"

"While that is true, no. It turns out we didn't need me, because the only survivor came right to SHIELD's door."

 _Nat._ "What...but she said that the _drug_ they stuck her with was five years old, not dating back all the way to the forties...then what..."

Clint's frown was genuine this time as he thought. "I overhead Coulson and May talking about some drug earlier," he said to her. "I'd try them first."

Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe. Every time she thought she didn't owe Clint anything, life had to swoop in and change the balances again. She pushed the gratitude through gritted teeth. "Thanks, Clint."

She _never_ wanted to see that stupid-ass smirk cross his face again. "Don't mention it, Bob."

* * *

"That's most definitely concerning," May and Natasha emerged from their exhausting debrief with Coulson, both of them weary and in dire need of a drink. They'd lost track of how many times they'd answered 'No, Romanoff is not a double agent' to various agents in various forms. By some unspoken agreement, both of them had left out Bobbi's previous experience with the drug - May out of her determination to protect the woman, Natasha out of something she couldn't quite yet fathom.

Yes, Bobbi was her friend. But Natasha was sure that _friends_ didn't extend to wanting to punch anyone that asked about the incident. Why couldn't some people just understand that some people needed to keep secrets? _Hah._ She snorted to herself. Getting riled up over Bobbi's right to keep quiet over an issue _she_ didn't even know about. But all was fair, she supposed. After all, she had secrets of her own.

"ROMANOFF!"

"Bobbi," she said, surprised, as the blonde in question stormed up to she and May in the hallway, her blue eyes snapping. "Good to see you made it past med bay." She meant that, at least. There wasn't a bone in Natasha's body that still rioted in guilt at the fact that she'd been the one to beat her up, acting or not.

"I wouldn't have _been_ in the med bay if you'd been transparent," At that, the redhead froze. What had Bobbi found out during her time in recovery? _How_ much had she found out? And more importantly, how long did she have before the entirety of SHIELD's lab division was chasing after her with needles and clipboards?

"Look, I have a very good reason that I didn't tell you any of it -"

"You mean like you had a copy of the super soldier serum?" Bobbi accused, struggling to keep the semblance of calm. _Whoop, there it was._ "That no one's seen since Steve Rogers drove a plane into the damn ocean?" She laughed humorlessly. "I guess I've met my match, then. Master of keeping secrets, Natasha Romanoff, everyone. I gladly hand my crown over."

"Bobbi, look, wait, I can explain -"

"Can you? Can you really?" There was nothing in Bobbi's voice as she answered, and for one long moment, Natasha was seized with the crippling fear that the serum had decided to make a second round in Bobbi's system. "Right now, I don't even care about the serum. Fuck that."

"Then what..."

"I want to know about the drug, Natasha. I want to know about the thing that fucked up my system so badly that I had to relive the worst night of my _life_ , okay? I don't even remember what happened! I'm sick of it! I'm sick and tired of everyone looking at me like I'm some goddamn pity case! So just _tell_ me what the hell happened, won't you?"

"Bobbi..."

"I want to know," Bobbi enunciated in a pained voice, squeezing her eyes shut. "I want to know, Nat. I - I keep seeing candles and blurred faces and starlit skies in my dreams, Nat. I wake myself up from screaming from burns I don't even have. I just want to know." When Natasha looked into her eyes again, it was into depths filled with the pain of uncertainty. " _Please,_ Nat."

Natasha gathered a limp Bobbi into her arms (no easy feat, it was honestly a wonder she managed to get it done at all) and hiked her over to the elevator, punching the up button. May nodded at her as she started in the other direction. _Take care of her._ "We're going to get you into bed, first, okay? You've had quite the few days."

"I just want to know," Bobbi whispered miserably, staring at the ground. "I just want to _know_." They piled into the elevator, she leaning heavily on Natasha's shoulder. "I want to stop seeing it. I want it to _stop._ "

"I know, Bobbi. I know." And she did. Natasha remembered how the earlier versions of the serum had brought physical as well as psychological pain, tiny pinpricks ripping up her legs and paralyzing her in her sleep, instinct forcing her to keep her mind shut when all she wanted to do was scream at the loss of feeling. She remembered how the first completely psychological version had brought back the memories of her first kill in all of their clarity, right down to the sharp coppery tang of blood wafting into her nose. What little she'd gleaned from Bobbi was telling her whatever she'd seen _hadn't_ been good.

When the elevator opened once more, Natasha looked Bobbi up and down once before nodding to herself and scooping Bobbi into her arms, carrying her bridal-style to her room. Bobbi had just enough semblance to hand Natasha the key, and in no time, Natasha was plopping Bobbi into bed, mission and hygiene be damned.

"Tell me. Please."

Natasha took a deep breath. "That serum - the one that they injected you with - it brings up your worst memory. Whatever negative emotions you had get multiplied and directed to the whim of whoever injected it into you." When Bobbi inhaled sharply, she continued. "I need to know what you saw, Bobbi. I can't help you - no one can - until we know what you saw." From what little she'd gathered from Maria and May, it'd been a nighttime memory haunting Bobbi's dreams - which explained why they manifested themselves into nightmares.

"No one knows," Bobbi said in a brittle voice, refusing to look at her friend. "My file's restricted, and the only ones that know about it are Coulson, May and Maria. Fucking Barton knows because he hacked my file." Natasha narrowed her eyes, anger briefly shooting through her system at the archer. Now she understood why the flight back had been so silent. "He's a piece of shit, Nat." She gave her friend a long look. "He'll charm your way into your heart, but as soon as you fall into his bed, he's moved on."

Natasha laughed bitterly. "I think you underestimate the depth in which they beat love out of our systems, Bobbi." Her, love Clint? It was almost more likely that Coulson would propose to May outside their door at that very second. _Love is for children._ "Love is for children."

Bobbi's lips twisted into a grim smile. "I wish I was that strong," she said at last. Her voice began to take on a faraway quality as she looked past Natasha and out the window. "So many things could've been prevented if I wasn't such a hopeless romantic, you know. But I am. It's the Morse genes. We fall for the first sweet words that float into our ears, and even if they do us wrong, we come back anyways, looking for a second chance. It's a miracle I'm not already married."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Natasha answered quietly. She sat down beside Bobbi on the bed, tipping into the blonde's side. "I'm learning now that maybe love isn't such a bad thing." If this was love - taking care of people she cared about when they needed it the most - she could easily get used to it.

"Love's not black and white," Bobbi mused, turning back to her friend and wrapping an arm around her side. "There's as many shades of love as there are agents of SHIELD. And not all of them match up to what everyone thinks love is." Her voice was bitter again, Natasha noticed, and she twisted her head up to look at Bobbi. "Some things are downright vile."

"What happened to you?" Natasha whispered, wondering how, at so young, Bobbi could already have such a cynical outlook on emotion and love. She was supposed to want to find it at every corner, falling gracefully and coming out stronger every time she failed. She wasn't supposed to be like this - knowledgeable on loss and pain and hurt. "What _happened_ to you, Bobbi?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Bobbi asked bitterly, and at that moment, Natasha felt like a child, reduced to two base emotions: listen and hug. She pushed back the latter urge. "Just like every other stupid teenager in the world, I fell in love."


	20. Up In Flames

**TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of abuse and alcohol (?)**

* * *

" _Well, well, well. I don't believe my eyes."_

 _Maria squeezed herself into she and Bobbi's tiny Academy dorm room, hazel eyes widening when she saw Bobbi applying eyeliner in front of their full-length mirror. "Do mine eyes deceive me, or is the famous Barbara Morse getting ready to go to an_ event _?"_

" _Don't call me that," Bobbi muttered back, but both of them knew the retort lacked barb. "And yes, I'm going to the bonfire tonight. Lincoln asked me to." Maria didn't miss the way Bobbi blushed slightly at the sound of her boyfriend, and fought to roll her eyes for the thousandth time since they'd started dating. "Said it'd be good for me to get out and socialize a bit."_

" _Lincoln thinks_ everything's _good for you, Morse." Maria moved past her, shaking out the various tools of her own makeup bag. "Scoot." Bobbi moved to the side, and Maria scooted in, immediately beginning her own makeup routine. "If he said jumping off of a cliff would be good for you, you'd do it just because he said so."_

" _I would not," Bobbi scoffed, her hand trembling slightly as she drew a near-perfect line onto her eyelid. "I have a mind, you know." But Maria saw differently - for all of his charms and supposed devotion, there lay a master manipulator, her best friend his perfect victim. Blind to the truth, unwilling to uncover her eyes to see it - Bobbi had been his ideal target. Over the weeks they'd been dating, Maria had been forced to watch Bobbi go from a stubborn, independent woman to an obedient bobblehead that agreed with every vowel slipping between slimy lips._

 _She hated it, but there was nothing she could do._

" _Yeah, yeah, yeah." She opted for the friendly tone instead; better to adopt the amicable rather than the hostile: at least, this way, she'd be somewhat higher on the list to know should Bobbi fall into any trouble. "Says the one who got kicked out of the library last week for overtly public displays of affection."_

" _They make people uncomfortable," Bobbi muttered, blushing. "I was testing out a hypothesis." Maria rolled her eyes and brushed past her roommate again. "Besides, I can't help if he's kissable as hell."_ Well, she could, _Maria thought with a roll of her eyes._

" _Whatever. Just let me know when you're good to go, yeah?" A brush of the hand had her lanyard in grasp, and Maria offered one last piece of advice before she was out the door. "Try not to get too wasted, hm? You know what you get like when you're wasted."_

" _You're just saying that to remind yourself so you can drag my ass back to the dorm later," was Bobbi's answering laugh. If Maria had known that was the last time she'd hear Bobbi laugh like that in a while, she probably would've taken more care to memorize it._

 _If she'd known what damage would befall Bobbi tonight, maybe she would've taken more caution to make sure she was safe. If she'd known how badly this would scar her best friend, maybe she wouldn't have been so flippant about the fact that she was going with someone she trusted as far as her SO could reach._

 _There were a lot of what-ifs Maria had about that night, and the majority of them she would never solve._

* * *

 _Bobbi's first instinct was to wrinkle her nose as she made her way down the Academy's gently sloping back lawn. True to rumor, the quad was already filled with students, most of them drunk and the rest of them well on their way. Sighing, she stepped around a candle, one of the many scattered around the lawn in an attempt to foster a romantic mood._

 _If the atmosphere didn't set relationships aflame, then the candles certainly would. Literally._

" _Bobbi!" Lincoln gestured to her from a few feet away, red cup already in hand. Seeing as her hands were currently empty, a misguided freshman shoved a cup into her hands, slopping some of it over her shoes. Great. And just when she'd bought them, too. "You made it!"_

" _Hi, honey," She stepped in for a kiss, finally giving in to the urge to wrinkle her nose as alcohol overwhelmed her senses. "Getting into the party, I see." Those were apparently the right words, for he beamed like someone had shoved a string of fairy lights into him._

" _I told you it would be fun! You just needed to come out more. Take your nose out of those musty old books." Bobbi looked down, focusing on a single blade of grass. She had told Lincoln she was studying to graduate at the top her class. She had. He'd just - he'd - he was drunk, that was all. State-dependent memory - one remembered things told to them in a certain state. She'd told him when he was sober. Of course he wouldn't remember._

 _Of course._

" _Yeah," She forced a smile, feeling the telltale blush come up when Lincoln noisily pecked her cheek. "I guess you were right. All I needed to do was come out for some air." The smile grew at the 'Atta girl!' she got in response, giving her the courage to finally pick up the plastic cup in her hand. Bobbi drained it in one gulp, biting her lip to keep from puking as the liquid slid down her throat. Beer was fucking disgusting. Still, Lincoln was grinning at her like she was the only thing that mattered...and if this was what it took to keep that grin on his face, she'd do anything._

 _When asked later, Bobbi would reply she had no idea how much she'd had to drink, only enough that the stars had begun to blur together in the violet night sky, the drunken revelries of the students fading to a soft din. It had been dark enough that the candles had long been their only source of light, and with their numerous placings, romance filled the air just enough to mimic sexual tension._

 _If asked, Bobbi wouldn't have been able to tell the names of the people who'd been around her, much less the ones that had so cruelly and thoughtlessly destroyed her body and self-image. All she knew at that moment was that the beers were going down easily, each one smoother than the last, and that Lincoln's friends, once assholes, were actually quite friendly._

 _There had been several moments over the course of the night where Bobbi could've sworn she'd seen a glimmer of malice flash over Lincoln's face, but she'd quickly dismissed them as alcoholic hallucinations. After all, what harm could he do?_ Would _he do?_

 _Beer after beer she continued, so determined to keep that magical smile. It got to the point where standing up was a larger struggle than her research when she was half-awake, and Bobbi found that one of Lincoln's friends - what was his name again? - made a convenient crutch. She could hardly recognize the giggle that was coming out of her mouth, but she was so thirsty...and the beer in her hands seemed to be doing very well at quenching her thirst._

 _Somewhere, in the back of her brain, she knew alcohol was a dehydrator, but for once, couldn't her brain shut up and let her have fun for once? Besides, the boys seemed to like holding her up._

" _Whoopsies!" The amber liquid sloshed out of another one of the endless cups Bobbi had dropped over the course of the night, only this time, she followed it, toppling to the ground and taking her current crutch with her. "'M so cluuuuuuumsy!" The boy she'd taken down laughed uproariously and tried to regain his balance by placing a hand on her stomach and pushing up; he was met with failure and instead fell on top of her._

" _You're sho pretty when you're washted," he slurred, laughing slowly to himself. Before she could comprehend what was happening, his lips were on hers, hands roaming places that weren't exactly appropriate for a public party._

 _She pushed him off with a giggle. Didn't he know who she belonged to? It was a fact that Lincoln liked to make public every chance he could, whether it was with an arm around her waist, or displays of affection that made people uncomfortable. "Sthop being sho silly!"_

 _The boy didn't seem to take no for an answer, pressing his weight more fully on top of her as he kissed her again, his tongue like a wet slug poking into her mouth. "Sho hot," was the only murmur as he ground against her. "Mmm..." Fear was starting to set into Bobbi now, cold and sobering as an Arctic shower. Sure, it was slow to set in - a drop at first, perhaps a trickle - but when his hands crept upwards past them hem of her favorite purple blouse, the dam burst, and everything was suddenly sharp again, the noise of the crowd grating into her ears._

" _Don't touch me!" Why wasn't she able to push him off? Bobbi definitely did her fair share of the time at the gym - having Maria as a roommate meant frequent trips to the gym, and even more frequent trips to the medical bay to be patched up. Her weight training alone should've been enough. But why wasn't it? "Get...off!" Tears of panic were starting to swim in the corners of her eyes when the inebriated college student refused to budge, hastened by the introductions of other pairs of hands grabbing at her. "I don't...I donnnn't like whaat you're doin' t' me." She gasped as her sight was abruptly snatched from her, in its place a cheaply-made gray T-shirt. Or black. She couldn't really tell._

" _Look at the princess now, struggling to get out of her castle," The hands that had taken her captive pulled in nearly every direction, and it was only when Bobbi got her bearings that she realized that all four of her limbs were spread, each of them with a single drunken man lying on top of them. It had been a whole new meaning to the term 'dead weights'._

 _That, and the voice speaking was very familiar._

" _Linc!" she gasps, relief coloring her voice. "Linc, babe, get yourrrr drunnnk friends offa me, they're bein' idiotsss..." She spotted the candles in his arms then, and she swore at that moment her heart cracked in two, betrayal washing right over the anger that his friends could do such a thing. "Linc, Lincoln, no..."_

 _Lincoln laughed again, that same smile that she'd drunk so much to see appearing. How could such a sunny face also hold such malice? Green eyes, which had once seemed so comforting, now gleamed in perverse excitement, set atop a triumphant smirk that had used to infuriate her in the best ways. "I see my boys are having fun with you, Barbara."_

 _As if on cue, one of the boys gained enough sentience to try and score another chance with her. "You're sho pretty when you're drunk, Barbara," he fake-cooed, leaning down to try and kiss her. Bobbi's heart raced as the slimy appendages moved against her, hammering out a silent SOS to anyone that was listening. "Aren't'choo havin' fun?"_

 _Fun? What the hell was he defining fun as? "Let me go!" It was the clearest sentence she thought she'd spoken all night thus far, but it seemed to have come out as slurred as the rest of the protests she'd made. "Linc, babe, tell them to let me go..." All of the boys weighing her down shared a guffaw, one of them even having the gall to slap her around a few times before trying to lock his lips with hers._

 _Bobbi wasn't having any of it. She struck out blindly with all of the strength she could muster, a strangled cry escaping her mouth when her head connected with something solid. That one collision instilled in her a new burst of confidence, and she kept blindly aiming at that spot with her head, hoping that she could at least dispel_ one _of the slimy cretins forcing themselves onto her. There was the sound of a wheeze and a groan, and Bobbi's head hit the ground again with a nasty thump, dim light filling her vision again as the blindfold was ripped off of her eyes. Sparkling green eyes bored into hers, green eyes she thought had been capable of doing no harm. The same eyes she'd looked into just a day before and had thought about maybe spending the rest of her life with._

" _Let you go?" Lincoln's voice had a new timbre to it, one she'd never heard before. It grated with the anticipation of violence, of deriving a primitive pleasure in hurting Bobbi. She shuddered, both in fear and in revulsion. "Why would we do that?" More males began to swarm them as she vied for freedom once again, most of them bursting into motley laughter._

" _Barbara, Barbara, Barbara," he said once the laughing began to die down. "All this time, and you thought you meant something." At first, confusion stole over Bobbi, followed by the weight of his words slowly beginning to sink in. "The Academy's top biochemist? Please. Hill's best friend? Bullshit." But she_ was _those things, Bobbi thought hazedly, struggling to comprehend what the hell Lincoln was trying to say. She was the Academy's top biochemist. Her SO had said it themselves. She had the medal. And Maria_ was _her best friend. Maria had told her. It was cemented in their friendship bracelets (which they kept in the bottom of their drawers, it was something they'd done while drunk, thank you very much). "Hell, you even thought I loved you. You're worth nothing, Barbara._ Nothing. _"_

 _Nothing? Bobbi's head spun. Had all of her accolades been lies, exclamations thrown at her simply to appease a tantrum she didn't even know existed under the surface? Her breaths began to quicken. How much of her academic career was a truth? How much of it was a lie? And Maria. Had they even been friends, or had her roommate simply put up with her out of the best interest of not having to do the roommate search all over again? Lincoln couldn't be right. He couldn't be._

But Lincoln was always right, _a small voice chimed in in the back of her head. Think about how vastly her life had improved because Lincoln had come into it. Think of the attention she got, the friends she made, the person he'd made her into. How lucky she'd been that he'd even laid eyes on her._

 _Of course he was right on this. Why else would he tell her lies on something so important? Bobbi's triumphant run at the Academy had been based on all luck. She remembered just last week when she'd been in the lab with Lincoln, trying to defend her thesis, when she'd dropped an important compound to the ground, shattering the beaker and ruining the experiment. "See? Lucky," he'd said, hopping off of the counter as she'd stuttered numerous apologies to her professor, who'd been irate that she'd ruined such an important procedure. No_ accomplished _biochemist would've done such a thing, least of all the best biochemist at Sci-Tech._

 _The thought alone made Bobbi wonder just what else she'd been lucky in. Everything else, maybe. Simply "lucky" to have a friend like Maria. "Lucky" that Lincoln liked her. What if that was all she was actually good at - being lucky? If so, apparently her luck had run out. This was it. Bobbi was doomed to everyone else's whims for the rest of her life._

" _Well, would you look at that, boys." While Bobbi's life as she knew it had been mentally unravelling around her, Lincoln had bent down and plucked at the gauzy fabric of her purple blouse, grinning sleazily down at her. She'd been so absorbed in her revelations that she hadn't noticed her chest had gone into full-on heaving mode, no doubt generating filthy images in her captors' minds. "Looks like she wants to have a little fun. Who are we to deny her?"_

Maybe if I close my eyes,it'll be over soon...

" _Hey, boys, did you get her ankles yet? She's a kicker." The dead weights were taken off of Bobbi's legs, and as soon as she felt them free, she lashed out once more. It was futile, seeing as her hands were still stuck to the ground. She paid for that brief rebellion with more pressure on her body._

 _How had no one noticed what was going on?_

" _You were never this fiesty with me," Bobbi's head whipped to the side as she was met with the first slap she'd ever had in her life, the burn of it searing both into her cheek and her mounting humiliation. Tears began to slip unbidden down her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to protect against any more vulnerability. "I think you've got a hidden side, Barbara."_

" _And I thought you loved me." Sticky fingers pressed against her closed eyelids, forcing them open. She tried to not to cry out._

" _I never loved you." The words continued to eat at what was left of her soul, shattering everything she'd ever thought about herself and simply reinforcing the idea that Lincoln had been right about her entire life. "How could I love someone that wasn't ever worth a damn thing?"_ No, _Bobbi cried out to herself, trying to resuscitate her drowning soul._ I am intelligent. I am worth it. I am, I am. _The words were bricks, dragging the last dregs of her down no matter how hard she tried._ Lincoln's right. You're nothing. _"And after this, no one's going to love you. Light 'er up, boys!"_

 _Something hissed as candle wax dropped onto Bobbi's leg, making her cry out in agony as she arched up, hoping to dispel it. No such luck. "No, don't do this," she begged in a broken voice, knowing nothing but her need to reason. "Please don't do this, Linc. Please," Bobbi knew there was some humanitarian side in there somewhere. She'd seen it - in his sober side, in his care for...in her, really. She couldn't name the exact moments, but surely they were there, right? They had to be. They had to._

" _No one's going to want you, you scarred little bitch." The wax dripped again as she howled, wanting nothing more to sob for them to stop. Doing so would surely make her look weak, but at this point, she didn't care. All she wanted to be was safe and sound in her own bed, wrapped up in her own comforter, the night over and the sun heralding a new day._

 _A familiar glint filled the air, ushering an all new set of horrors as she recognized just what was now in Lincoln's hand. "I'd keep still if I were you," he said evilly. "You wouldn't want my hand to slip, would you?" Facts about impairedness and fine motor function ran uselessly through Bobbi's mind, so quickly she nearly missed the first slash of pain that ran the length of her leg. "Oops. I guess my hand did slip."_

 _Lincoln continued to carve, red lines blooming across her delicate skin. At some point, Bobbi tuned the entire thing out, retreating inside of her mind to say her final goodbyes._ I'm sorry, Mom. _She wasn't even allowed her last glance at the night sky - the pain, mixed with her tears, forced her vision to blur so that the sharpest things were the candles._ I'm sorry, Dad. I should've listened to you when you said I should've gone to college. If you ever meet Maria Hill, tell her she was my best friend. She's a pain in the ass, but I'm sure you'll love her. I'm sorry for everyone I was mean to throughout the years; but in my defense, everyone was idiots. I'm sorry for whatever I did to cause this. I'm not wishing for it to end, because I deserved it in some way or another, I suppose. I'm just sorry.

" _What the hell is going on?" At the sound of the voice, the boys scattered like delinquents to a principal (which was fairly accurate, considering the situation). The first thing Bobbi noticed was the lack of slicing, and a relief that didn't last long, as the pain from her previous cuts began to set in._

 _At least the wax had cooled down. She wasn't sure if she would've been able to survive if it'd still been hot. She squinted a little, trying to recognize the figure peering down at her. "Fucking hell, what did they do to you?"_

 _Maria._

 _Bobbi nearly cried out in joy as a dead weight was lifted off of her right hand, then her left. "Shh, I've got you." Maria's hands supposedly fluttered around her body, searching for a good place to lift without agitating any of her friend's wounds. Somewhere, she knew Maria was coming from a good place, but that didn't stop her from recoiling from her friend's touch. "Oh, Bobbi..."_

 _As her adrenaline wore off, Bobbi could feel the haze descending, forcing her to drift in and out until she felt herself touch the papery backs of the med bay sheets. "You're safe," she heard Maria whisper. "That asshole is never touching you again, Bobbi, I swear." Had she been more lucid, she would've recognized the tears in her friend's voice, seen the bloody fingernail marks that came from clenching her hands too hard._

" _I promise on my life..."_

* * *

"I transferred to Ops the next month," Bobbi said quietly, staring at her hands. Natasha was still curled next to her, silent pity in her eyes that refused to be expressed through tears. "May took me on specially because she'd heard about what had happened because of Maria. I owe her my life and my dignity." She shook her head. "I don't think I would've gotten anything back if it hadn't been for May."

"I owe Maria more sometimes," Bobbi's voice grew distant. "She was always there for me in the aftermath. Always hugging me, whispering to me, trying to snap me out of my funk. I was finally so annoyed about her walking on eggshells around me that we had a screaming match in our room about three weeks after. She didn't speak to me until after I was out of therapy."

"And Lincoln?" Natasha's voice was rusty from disuse, but it still threatened to crack. "What happened to him?"

Bobbi scowled. "I didn't press charges out of humiliation. I spent months in therapy thinking that what he'd done was justified, that I'd been wrong and he'd been completely in the right. It still happens sometimes," she said softly. "Moments at night when I think that my entire life is a huge lie. That's why that incident terrifies me. Because I'm scared of falling so deeply down that hole. I'm scared of being scared into the thought that maybe everything in my life is made of luck." Her face hardened. "I could take the abuse. But what I couldn't take was the thought of my inferiority. I _am_ worth something. I'm worth a damn lot." Blue met green, the former shimmering with determination. "And don't _you_ ever forget that, Romanova." Natasha looked slightly taken aback at the use of her former name. "You went from Romanova to Romanoff, from cold to loving. You're worth something. You're worth _everything_."

The corners of Bobbi's mouth quirked up. "Besides, I wouldn't have saved you if you weren't."

* * *

 **I emerge from the depths of actual hell (it's hot up here, and I got food poisoning yesterday) and with my license!**

 **On a more serious note: 1 in 4 women end up victims of assault. If you're a girl, especially in today's day and age, it's a saddening statistic in a society that's supposed to be constantly on the cusp of progression. Please stay safe out there, and please, please, _please_ don't scoff or turn blind eyes to victims. This DOES happen, and if you're like me, about to emerge into a large population (aka college), then the amount of people you know, and the amount of victims you may know, will increase exponentially. **

**Just because it isn't happening in your backyard doesn't mean it isn't happening. Know that, and reduce the statistic.**


	21. Beating the Best

If asked about the morning they'd just witnessed, most of the agents present would've shaken their heads and asked to be referred for a mental checkup. The reason for that, they explained, was simply because they _couldn't possibly_ have seen what they'd just witnessed. It was impossible. Not that Andrew was complaining, though. He got an elevated number of patients, his paycheck was higher...it was a perfect win-win situation.

Although he _would've_ liked to know just what was causing such trauma...

* * *

 _POOF._

"That's another one," Natasha grinned as she extended a hand to May, who was lying on the mat after having been dealt a series of particularly nasty blows to the stomach. "What's the score now, five-one? Oh, wait." She pulled May to her feet in one smooth yank. "That was when you fought Morse. It's five-zero,"

May scowled. She wasn't the best for nothing. "One more."

Natasha shrugged cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Whatever you say, May. Although, you know the result's going to be the same, right? I'm pretty sure the shock value's worn off by now." She looked almost excited to beat her up, May noted. If she hadn't sworn allegiance to SHIELD, the chances of her wreaking destruction on the entire agency were very high.

"I'm pretty sure all of the agents watching walked out thinking they were hallucinating," Bobbi called from her spot over by the bench outside the sparring ring. Natasha had taken her out almost an hour ago, sending the taller agent to the ground with a puff of smoke. "It's gonna be _hard_ to get into therapy."

"Andrew loves you three," May grunted as she swung a roundhouse kick at Natasha's head. The other woman ducked, jabbing at May's stomach like she had so many times before. This was followed up by her own version of a roundhouse, which involved swinging her other leg over May's head, her S.O ducking to nearly avoid being kicked in the head. Natasha pivoted gracefully and weaved just in time to avoid a punch. "I'm sure he'll make room just - for - you - _oof!_ " One of Natasha's kicks caught her in the chin, and May was sent toppling to the floor once again.

"Give in yet, May?" Bobbi would never figure out how Natasha had beaten her, Maria, _and_ May into the ground multiple times without turning a single hair out of place. It was _maddening._ "I'm not sure your old ass can handle meeting the ground many more times."

May's glare was positively chilling. "Call me old one more time, Morse."

"Did I say old?" Suddenly, Bobbi was edging towards the door, a nervous look on her face as she shiftily hid her hands behind her back. "I didn't mean old. Of course not." She glanced furtively around the room, as if something in the training room would come to her aid. "You're young and sprightly, May. Yeah. Practically a spring chicken. I'm going to go get you some tea!" If the current scene had been a cartoon, there would've been a shadow left in the space Bobbi had fled so quickly.

May shook her head, pulling herself up with the hand Natasha had offered her once more. "You're good, I'll give you that," she acknowledged, rolling her eyes when her trainee bowed. "But you've only fought people with similar fighting styles. Myself. Hill. Morse. We need to see how you do against different fighting styles."

Natasha grinned, rolling the cricks out of her neck. "Bring it on. Who's first?"

"I'll bring you a list after lunch. Until then, relax. Go pull a prank or something. I hear Hand's office needs redecorating." Secretly, May thought, the contest wasn't just to expand Natasha's range. If Natasha beat everyone on her list without breaking a sweat, not only was her reputation in danger, she wasn't sure if she would ever recover from the hit it would deal her pride. She could already hear the rumors. _Taken down by a level one agent. Yeah,_ _Melinda May_. _I saw it with my own two eyes._ Since when the hell had Natasha gotten better than her? She'd been beating her (albeit narrowly) just before they'd left!

She had a list to make.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the greatest battle on Earth!" Maria was standing outside the training room, waving a large sign. "Come one, come all, come see the world-famous Natasha Romanoff take on SHIELD's best fighters!" As agents started to approach the doorway, she held out her hand. "Price of admission is five dollars, first come, first served. Bring your own drinks."

Natasha gave her a deadpan look. "Five dollars? When I'd gladly beat up some of these assholes for free? Come on, Maria." It was true. She'd taken a look at the list May had presented her some time earlier, noting with vindictive pleasure some of the names written. "I'm definitely going to get a kick out of wrecking Mathers today."

Bobbi raised an eyebrow. "He's on the list?"

Natasha shrugged. "It wasn't more he was _on_ the list than I had someone go and flatter him into thinking he was one of the best agents so he would fight me..." Maria snorted, nearly dropping the money an agent was begrudgingly pressing into her hand.

"Jesus, Barbara. You maim a man once, and Romanoff goes after him for you for the rest of our lives. He's not even one of your exes."

Now it was Natasha's turn. "That another list of people I need to beat the shit out of?"

" _Natasha_ ," Bobbi was thoroughly embarrassed. Since when had _she_ been the one to get motherhenned? She ducked her head, cheeks burning. "You don't have to defend me, you know." Below her, Natasha and Maria simply roared with laughter.

"Alright, here we go!" May produced a gong seemingly out of nowhere and rang it, its reverberations silencing every spectator in the room. The three women jumped, Natasha scurrying off towards the ring. "You all know what you came for. In this corner, we have, weighing in at 120 and five feet four inches, _Persephone Putinnnnnn!_ "

As the crowd cheered, Bobbi and Maria both took one look at each other before bursting into gales of laughter, the latter needing to grab onto Bobbi's shoulder for support so she wouldn't fall to the ground. From their position, they could easily see that Natasha's face was easily as red as her hair, and had Maria been looking, Bobbi was sure the glare Natasha was beaming the both of them would have struck her dead.

"And in the other corner, our first competitor, weighing in at 5'7" and 160, all muscle, Agent Mathers!" As she spoke, May caught Coulson's eye in the crowd, nodding minutely. Agent Mathers leapt cockily into the ring, trying to hype the crowd up in his support. They cheered willingly, while Natasha simply rolled her eyes and punched the air a few times to warm up.

"Now, remember, this is a _fair_ fight," May said once the two of them were standing in the middle of the ring. Was it Natasha's imagination, or was the last part of that remark directed towards her? "This means I don't want to see any weapons or diversions. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Agent May." "Yes, buzzkill." Bobbi snorted.

"Then let the games begin." May backed out with a flourish. Mathers and Natasha circled each other, the watchful stares of the crowd blurring into the background. Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to make a move. The room was so silent one could hear a drop of sweat hit the floor.

A single shriek split the silence, and Mathers sent a punch straight for Natasha's chin. He was mildly surprised when his fist met thin air, throwing off his balance and sending him reeling to the floor. The silent crowd erupted into cheers as Natasha took that as an opening, taking advantage of his forward momentum to flip him to the floor with a _thud_.

"Yeah, Nat!" Bobbi's voice could be heard among the cheers. "Kick his ass!"

"Kick his misogynistic, kiss-up, wrinkled ass!" Maria echoed just as loudly just as Mathers tried to push himself up, and Natasha sent him back to the floor with a single foot. The crowd was stunned into silence at the same time as her exclamation, causing heads to turn to her. "It's true!"

"1, 2, 3!" May counted off rapidly, grabbing Natasha's wrist while the crowd revamped its noise level. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner! Persephone Putin!"

* * *

The majority of the list went about the same way.

No matter what agent stepped up to try and best her, Natasha would always take them out in one or two moves. Sometimes, if she was feeling generous, she'd be a _little_ less ferocious about how hard she flipped them to the ground.

Like Coulson, for example. He'd managed to get a punch to the stomach (which she'd totally allowed him) before he was bounced off of the ropes and sent to the mat. He gave her a brief thumbs up as May peeled him off of the floor, patting his back comfortingly.

Other agents, like those falling in line with Mathers, weren't as so lucky. One had the audacity to tell her that he hoped he fell on her chest when he went down - Natasha nearly flung him against the far wall. (If May said she didn't shove him out of the ring, she'd be lying.) Victoria Hand had to be taken down hard by necessity, and Natasha was actually smiling as she helped the agent up.

"Don't tell May, but you fight better than she does," she whispered, the both of them casting glances over to where May was picking out the next competitor. "She'll kill me if she figures out that anyone's better than she is."

"Are you ready for your last competitor?" May yelled to the crowd, and a loud roar went up. Having seen all of the competitors defeated easily, the crowd was restless and eager for revenge. "Give it up for the one, the only, _Agent Barton!_ "

 _You're kidding._

Natasha barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes as Clint stepped onto the mat, looking every bit as cocky as Mathers had earlier that day. Frowning, she sized him up. Small for his size. Slight. Good build in the arms - she'd have to aim for the legs, there was no way she'd be able to disable him up top...was May _smirking_?

Instinctively, her eyes sought out Bobbi's in the crowd, and her best friend gave her a small nod. _Take his cocky ass down._ She stepped in towards the middle, stubbornly meeting Clint's resolute expression.

"I trust you two won't kill each other," May deadpanned. "Try not to maim each other, either. I need both of you on missions soon."

"Yes, mom," As soon as it left their mouths, Clint and Natasha glared at each other.

"Line stealer."

"Asshole."

That earned her a smirk. "Of course I'm an asshole. How do you think I get dates?" And with that, he launched into a tackle, nearly sending Natasha to the ground. She was only saved by quick momentum that sent _him_ to the ground instead - but not for long.

Clint landed with one palm splayed on the floor, pushing himself back into a crouched position while at the same time pushing Natasha backwards. She stared at him, bewildered as to how someone had managed to defeat her signature flip. Then, she launched at him like a rabid cat, determined to win the fight by any means possible.

No one could figure out who had the upper hand at all during the fight. Whenever it seemed like Natasha had the drop, Clint would land a hit with deadly accuracy; when he had the upper hand, Natasha would pull out a move no one had ever seen, stunning Clint for a good three seconds.

Clint was breathing hard as he rebounded off of the ropes, the crowd roaring in his ears. This noise definitely wouldn't do. Frowning, he touched his ear quickly, smiling to himself as the sound faded to silence. Perfect. Just how he liked it.

Natasha frowned as Clint touched his ear. _What was he doing?_ She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for some sort of surprise move. With the way he'd been in his relationship with Bobbi, she didn't expect him to throw all of his moves on the table. She watched as he straightened up, put his arms into the air, and began to flip towards her. Natasha tensed. If she caught his feet at the right time, she'd be able to slam him into the ground...

As soon as his feet were straight up in the air, she grabbed for them, leaving Clint to be slung over her shoulder. To her surprise, he didn't put up a fight. In fact, he almost seemed to be reaching down as low as possible instead of trying to get himself back up. It made it a little harder for Natasha to slam him into the ground, but May _had_ said not to maim him...

He was almost there. Clint strained to stretch as far as he could down the petite's redhead's back, and by the way she was holding loosely onto his ankles, it wasn't too hard. Now, he just had to wait for the right momentum...

 _SNAP!_

"FUCK!" Natasha grabbed her behind at the searing pain that inexplicably raced through her, dropping Clint off of her side. He rolled over and popped back onto his feet grinningly, sweeping her off of her feet while he had the chance. Shocked green eyes met laughing brown ones. "You bit me in the ass!"

"No one said it wasn't allowed." _God,_ there was that stupid-ass smirk again. She wanted to do nothing more than slug it off of his face. Permanently. "May said to fight _fair._ She never said anything about fighting dirty."

"1...2..." It was clear May was trying to give Natasha the benefit of the doubt as she counted, but when she showed no sign of getting up - clearly, she was still in shock at having been bitten in the ass - she sighed. "3. Barton wins." It was no surprise that all of the men erupted into cheers, their patriarchal hierarchy still in place. In the crowd, Bobbi and Maria just rolled their eyes, the former making a mental list of how much toilet paper they'd need to decorate all of their bunks.

"Still a good fight." Ever the gentleman, Clint offered Natasha his hand to pull her up, looking surprised when she slapped it away, a disgusted look on her face. "Wow. They told me you were cold, but I didn't think you were _Russian_ cold."

Natasha got to her feet on her own, still scowling at Clint. "What were you expecting, Barton? A blonde bimbo who'd fall into your bed?" Clint flinched. "Good luck with that, asshole."

"Barton. Romanoff." The entire crowd turned to see Fury standing in the doorway, all of them falling silent at the sight of their hulking director. Maria hastily hid the wad of cash she was holding behind her back, a guilty look on her face. "Hill, you can stop hiding the cash. I paid the cover charge." Blushing, the wad was made visible once more. "That was quite a fight."

"He bit me in the _ass,_ sir." Natasha was still bitter, sourly rubbing her backside. "Hardly fair."

"Still, you two are the best we've got. I think you've got things to learn from each other. I want to see you two training together. Learning together. I want you to know what the other eats, drinks, how they sleep. Know 'em like the back of your hand." A grim smile graced his face. "Do that, and I think you'll have some real potential the next time we send you out."

As he left amidst mutters, Natasha bounded out of the ring towards Bobbi and Maria, horror on her face. "Tell me he didn't just say what I think he said."

Bobbi nodded, her expression identical. "He did."


	22. Remember the Last Notebook

_THUD._

"Ugh!" Natasha cursed herself as she was pulled to her feet yet again by a smirking Clint, dusting imaginary pieces of lint off of her shorts. "How the hell're you beating the shit out of me?" It was a couple of days into their training, and she'd had yet to put Clint flat on his back like she had so easily every other male agent during the fights. Even more frustrating was the fact that _he'd_ put her flat on her back instead, something that May never hesitated to point out whenever she dropped by.

"Maybe you're not reacting fast enough," Clint smirked, high-fiving her hand before returning to his fighting stance. While he may have succeeded in his mission to rattle the famous Natasha Romanoff, he was still failing at his first one: coaxing a laugh out of the hardened agent. "Or maybe you're just not as good as you think you are."

Her response was nothing short of a growl as she mirrored his stance. "Of course I'm as good as I think I am, Barton. At least I don't think I'm better than I actually am."

"Why, Nat, I'm wounded." Clint adopted a hurt face, making Natasha scoff. Did he really think it was going to work for her? "I'll have you know I've beat up scores of agents in my day."

They faced each other down. "You beating me that day was just a stroke of luck," she muttered, scanning his posture for any sign of the moves he might make. As usual (something else frustrating she'd come to know in the last few days) there was nothing, and she tensed, ready to strike back at anything he might throw at her. "I'm going to beat you. I will."

"Stroke of luck, huh?" Natasha lunged at him, a right-handed jab that Clint easily evaded with a weak feint to the left. His returning jab caught her in the side, knocking the air out of her and allowing him to serve a mirroring one, sending her bent double. A sweep to the knees and she was on the floor again, staring up at his outstretched hand. "Then how come I haven't been properly acquainted with the floor yet?"

Natasha gritted her teeth and pushed herself up instead. "Asshole. You'll get knocked down one day. You'll see." The one thing she could tell about him was his fighting stance, Natasha noted as they fell into the positions once more. Although it didn't do her a damn bit of good.

"You know," Clint said as they began to exchange blows once more. "We haven't gotten to know each other since we sparred for that first time." A catch in the chin incapacitated her again, and Natasha frowned, stumbling back into the ropes before bouncing in return. She didn't need to get to _know_ him. Actually, in all things considered, she'd really rather not.

It wasn't that she was afraid that she'd fall for him. It was more she was pissed at him for breaking Bobbi. Yeah. That was it. _Love was for children,_ Natasha reminded herself harshly. This was a man who had a new woman every week. In no way was their rapport a semblance of what an actual relationship looked like. (Despite her sore lack of relationship experience, Natasha was convinced she at least knew _that_ much.) And she wasn't about to give herself any evidence to prove herself otherwise.

"Why would I want to get to know you?" she retorted, using the momentum from her bounce to put some extra force into her punches. "What makes you think that I'd show _any_ kind of interest in spending extra time with you?"

Clint raised an eyebrow at her, easily dodging her improvised hits and delivering a few of his own. "And here I thought you genuinely wanted to be friends." Suddenly, his foot shot out towards Natasha's chest. Smirking, she caught it, obviously expecting a kick.

What she _wasn't_ expecting was for him to jerk his foot down, taking her down with it. Clint towered over her floor-prone body once again, another slow smirk spreading over his face. "Besides," he said as he extended his hand minutely. "They say that bonding is the best way to learn your teammates' fighting styles."

Natasha slowly got to her feet, side-eyeing him suspiciously. "Say I _did_ agree to 'hang out' with you," she said slowly. "What would we do? Kill a diplomat? Take over a small island?" She did a fake gasp. "Or, God forbid we try and piss off May in her sleep."

Clint laughed, and she bit her lip to hide the smirk threatening to form. "Piss off May in her sleep," he chortled. "I like the sound of that. But, as tempting as that sounds, no. I like to do smaller things when I have time off."

"Such as?"

He shrugged. "Movies." A wary look. "You guys had those back in Russia, right? Movies? Films? Moving pictures?" When she shot him a glare, he held his hands up defensively. "Okay. So you had movies. In color. With sound."

Movies, Natasha mused. That didn't sound so bad. "What kind of movies?"

Clint grinned. He had this in the bag. "You ever heard of Nicholas Sparks?"

* * *

" _YOU SAID YOU'D WHAT?!"_

* * *

"Natty!" Clint called as he saw her stalking down the hallway, a scowl on her face. "You ready for some serious Sparks?"

"One, if you want to live, do _not_ call me Natty," Natasha said forcefully, skidding to a stop and poking him in the chest. "And two, don't think you can deceive me. Bobbi told me what Nicholas Sparks movies were. And you're delusional if you think I'm going to get into _any_ sort of relationship like that with you."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, _what_?" Clint was already laughing before Natasha had finished her monologue. "Bobbi told you _what_?" Natasha stared at him, confusion reigning. Bobbi wouldn't lie to her about this, would she?

"Nicholas Sparks movies are movies based off of his romance novels," she reeled off, trying to reach for some of her previous anger. For some reason, it wasn't coming. "All of them have some sort of tragic love story where one of them loses the other."

"Okay, well, I guess she was right," Clint chortled, still trying to get over the fact that Natasha thought he was trying to entice her into a romantic relationship. (Well, sure, he was, but not now. Maybe later down the road, when she _didn't_ try to kill him every other time they met.) "Bob's right about that, but that's _not_ why I asked you here."

She gave him a level glare. "You have five seconds to tell me what you're doing with these movies or I knock you out."

He rolled his eyes. "Nicholas Sparks movies always end the same way. Morse said so herself. Honestly, it's a piece of bullshit if you ask me." A dark chuckle. "Wanna come and talk about how stupid and unrealistic true love is?"

Natasha was floored. Maybe it _did_ explain why he never settled for one woman. "True love's one of the most bullshit ideas fed to you by your country," she said finally, causing Clint to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Love is for children. We don't have the time to be childish."

"Ah, what a refreshing point of view," Clint joked, making her crack a tiny grin. "Aha! I knew it! The famous Natasha Romanoff smiles!"

"You're going to need to do a lot more than that to make me smile," she said, cautiously reaching out and bumping his shoulder. He bumped back, and she yanked her arm back, inexplicably terrified. _Apologize, Natalia. Women aren't meant to fraternize with men._

"Sorry." It was an automatic response, one she hated, but one ingrained into her nonetheless. Initiating physical contact with a male back home had always led to one of two things: sex or violence. (She'd had her fill of both, regrettably, and the way she'd kept being punished earned her jeers she never wanted to hear again.)

Natasha watched warily for a sign that either punishment was about to begin. When neither one did, she let out a slow breath, only to find Clint watching her worriedly. "You okay, Natasha?" She didn't miss how he'd addressed her as _Natasha_ , not _Romanoff_ or, God forbid, that nickname. It wasn't something she'd seen coming, and, frankly, it unsettled her.

Slowly, she willed her hammering heartbeat to recede so she could answer him. "I'm fine." She managed to make herself spit out his name. "Clint. I'm fine, thanks."

He nodded, although she didn't miss how he slowly scanned her - whether it was to ogle her or to try and analyze what had set her off, she didn't know. "Let's go make fun of some shitty romantic movies, shall we?"

* * *

" _Do you think in another life, I could've been a bird?"_

A unified snort. "Oh, come _on_ ," Clint yelled at the TV, accidentally managing to scatter some pieces of popcorn on the floor. Natasha glared at him - this was _her_ bunk, after all, and she'd be damned if there were rats coming in here at night to pick up after what he'd left lying around. "Honey, in another life, there's no way you'd be a bird. Well, maybe," he amended, popping another piece into his mouth. "A dodo bird. Or a peacock. Because that thing you're wearing on your head is _hideous_."

She watched silently from her spot on the other end of the bed, mentally agreeing. She wasn't sure yet what giving out her opinion would result in, and she didn't want to ruin what tentative friendship they seemed to be striking up.

(Was this friendship? Was it a pity accompaniment? Something only done by the requirements of training?)

" _If you're a bird, then I'm a bird."_

"No." The abrupt declaration came from the both of them at the same time once more, and they looked at each other in surprise, staring down the other as the characters on-screen shared a passionate kiss. Blushing, Natasha broke the moment by reaching for more popcorn, shoving a handful of it into her mouth.

She could _not_ allow herself to be friends with him. Absolutely _not_.

* * *

" _Are you breaking up with me?"_

"Oh my god," Clint moaned dramatically, flopping forwards onto the bed. Natasha regarded him amusedly, resisting the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair. (That would most _certainly_ fuck things up.) "Just get it over with and cut to the chase!"

" _I'm just saying we should see how things go."_

He looked up to give Natasha a deadpan expression. "I'm telling you, this is why all relationships fail. Because stupid idiots think that by feeling things out they're being all understanding and shit, when really all they're being are assholes that cause girls' minds to run amok trying to figure out what went wrong."

"Idiots," Natasha agreed quietly, and had he not been paying attention, Clint was sure he would've missed the jab. It was a much longer her look he took at her now, watching as she observed the scene. Every now and again, she'd huff and roll her eyes at a gesture or a line, no matter how mundane or casual.

" _Do it! Just do it! Do it!"_

As the characters exchanged slaps, Clint grinned as a look of surprise spread over Natasha's face. "Damn."

" _We're not really breakin' up, are we! This is just a fight we're havin'!"_

Natasha sighed. "Of course." She gave Clint a deadpan look that mirrored the one he'd given her earlier. "Because God forbid that the female character be strong for once."

"Hey, hey," Clint defended. "A lot of girls go runnin' back to me when I leave them. Just saying." She turned to look at him then; stone-cold, no-bullshit, disbelief all rolled into one stubbornly set pair of lips.

"I wouldn't."

* * *

" _I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you every day for a year."_

"And you didn't stop?" Natasha asked, feeling around the bowl for another piece of popcorn. (Just as she'd suspected - Clint had eaten it all.) "How stupid would you have to be to keep writing after she didn't write back?"

"Pretty damn stupid, I'd say," Clint answered, the two of them not even taking their eyes off the screen. "And pretty in love. If someone's stubborn enough to write you for an entire year, that's true love right there."

"Which is why true love is a piece of shit," Natasha repeated, casting aside the popcorn bowl with a sigh. "No guy's going to be persistent enough to write for a year without an answer in return. Hell, no guy will write for a _week_ before giving up."

"I wrote Bobbi for a month."

She went silent at that, casting a worried glance over at Clint as the statement settled over them thickly. Should she apologize? Laugh it off? Provide unconditional positive regard?

How the _hell_ was she supposed to reply?

"Bobbi's a romantic at heart," she found herself saying. "I'm pretty sure if you looked hard enough, you'd find the letters still stashed away in her bunk somewhere." Clint snorted a laugh and plopped backwards onto the mattress. Somehow, that was enough of an absolvement for her.

"You're not serious?"

"Damn right I am. They're probably in a shoebox somewhere in her closet. They've gotta be." She smirked. "It's the _only_ place in her bunk I haven't seen." Carefully, she laid down next to him, mindful to keep the appropriate amount of distance between them. "Maybe I'll help you look for them."

Clint held out his hand. "Shake on that."

She did.

(And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she thought she could possibly be friends with Clint Barton. _Possibly_.)


	23. Number 18: A Bike

"Oh, my god, Romanoff, are you reading _Nicholas Sparks_?"

Natasha looked up to see Bobbi's horrified face above her couch-prone body. Blushing, she snapped the book shut, but not before her best friend got a good look at the title. " _The Last Song_." Bobbi made a face and a prayer motion. "To whoever's up there, save us, because Natasha reading a romance novel for fun signals the apocalypse."

"Dramatic much, Morse?" Natasha rolled her eyes, opening the book up again. (Yes, she was reading it, but only so that she could react appropriately to the scenes when she watched it with Clint next week.) "Besides, I'm not reading it _for fun_. I'm trying to get a leg up so I can actually converse with Clint when we watch it." Too engrossed in her book, she missed how Bobbi's face only grew more horrified. "Plus, then I get to point out everything they missed."

"Ew. You realize how you're sounding, right?" When Natasha didn't respond, Bobbi went on. "You two watch movies every week like you have a standing date for them. You're _actively_ doing things for him. I haven't heard you mention his name in disgust in weeks!" She shuddered. "Any more of this and you two are going to be disgustingly domestic."

"Not true," Natasha said automatically. "I haven't touched him." Which was true. Every week, when they settled into the dark room to watch the latest in romance massacres, they didn't touch each other once. Clint didn't push, which was something that was perfectly fine with her. (In fact, it was something she quite appreciated.) She took one side of the bed, he the other - and it worked out just fine, save for the occasional brush of hands in the empty popcorn bowl.

Bobbi snorted. "For _now_. Next thing I know, you two'll be making babies on the floor of the training room."

"Take that back before I decide to cut your carotid artery with this novel," Just because she watched romantic (although extremely fictional and cheesy, but still romantic) movies with _Clint Barton_ didn't mean that they had to _get_ together. "You know it's not like that, Bobbi."

"I know, I know." Bobbi sighed and plopped down on the floor below the couch. "It's just...I miss ya, you know?" _That_ got Natasha to look down at her in surprise. "I haven't gotten to hang out with you since before you started training. And that was two months ago."

Frowning, Natasha reviewed her mental calendar, trying to figure out when she'd enjoyed some quality time with her best friends. As she flicked through the pages of an imaginary planner, her frown grew. Bobbi was right - most of her time nowadays she spent with Clint, either training or watching movies or debating said movies. _When had she become such a one-person socialite?_

( _Then again_ , a voice in the back of her head snorted, _she used to be a no-person socialite. So it was a step up, at least_.)

"You're right," she said finally, looking down. "I haven't." It was funny how life worked sometimes - Natasha had started out hating everything there was to hate about Clint Barton, and now, he was the sole occupier of her time. "What do you want to do today, Bobbi?"

"Well," Bobbi said coyly. "Now that it's come to my attention that you'd do _anything_ in the hopes of winning my forgiveness -" Natasha snorted. "-I seem to remember there's a _certain_ agent that doesn't know how to ride a bike."

" _Please_ don't," Natasha groaned. Of all the things she had on that list, 'riding a bike' was the one she'd hoped to learn in private. (She didn't know what riding a bike was like, but she'd watched plenty of videos of people falling down. "I'll do anything but that."

But Bobbi would not be deterred. "Come _oooonnnn_ ," she whined. "You're my best friend, and you said you'd do anything. You owe me, Romanoff."

"Yeah, I'll do anything," Natasha repeated, shooting a glare at her. "Except that!"

"Even piss off May in her sleep?"

"Why not?" It wasn't like May would catch her, anyways. Or so she liked to think. "I'll do that even without needing to redeem myself, thanks."

Bobbi stuck her tongue out at her. "Party pooper." Her tone suddenly turned shifty. "Well, if you're not going to ride a bike...then I say you have to ask out Barton."

Natasha's book nearly went flying across the room. " _WHAT?!"_

"You heard me," Bobbi said cheerily, as if she hadn't just asked her best friend the impossible. "Ask out Barton, and you won't have to ride a bike."

"What the hell, Bobbi?" Natasha spluttered. "What happened to 'don't trust lying liars like Barton, they're pieces of shit'?" Because, really. Unless Bobbi had fallen in love herself, there was no reason for her to turn her stance around. And Natasha hadn't been _that_ far removed.

"Barton's fine until you fall into his bed," Bobbi shrugged. "Then he's a piece of shit." Natasha frowned. Clint was _already_ a little piece of shit that needed toning down. And _she_ hadn't fallen into bed with him yet. "So. You gonna ride that bike?"

Natasha sighed, putting down her book. "I'll meet you in the lobby in ten."

She figured it was just enough time to grab all of the money she had, let May know where she was going, and run like hell.

* * *

 **ACCESS DENIED.**

"What?" Natasha cried in disbelief, swiping her card against the door. "No! It can't be!" She kept swiping her card at the sensor, snarling in frustration when it would blink the same unforgiving red light.

 **ACCESS DENIED.**

 **ACCESS DENIED.**

 **ACCESS DENIED.**

"Motherfucker!" What were the odds she'd survive jumping from the lowest window she could find? On second thought, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she died. No one would have to see her ride a bike. Or fail at riding a bike. Either one was preferable.

"Going somewhere, Romanoff?"

She turned and looked upwards to see Clint smirking at her from the balcony above. "I gotta say, I'm hurt. I thought we were supposed to discuss _The Last Song_ this afternoon. Now you're running?"

"It's not _you_ I'm running from, Barton."

Clint pretended to swoon. "Well, run me over with a gallant horse."

Natasha swore again as she was denied entrance to the stair door. "Morse is trying to make me learn how to ride a bike. I've seen the videos. It's not happening." When the buzzer sounded once more, she sighed in frustration. "Can you buzz me down the stairs?"

He raised an eyebrow. "All you had to do was ask." Before she could warn him, he jumped the banister, landing with a wisp on his feet in front of her. One swipe, and the stairway to freedom lay in front of her. "The gate awaits, my charming damsel in distress. See you this afternoon?"

Natasha shouted her affirmative as she ran down the stairs. "Thanks, Clint!"

Clint waited until Natasha's footsteps had faded before raising his walkie talkie. "Got her, Morse. Headed down the stairway."

" _Affirmative. And don't make me say thanks, I already said it before."_

"Wouldn't dream of it." Clint stowed his walkie talkie into his pocket before heading to the lobby. This was a show he wouldn't want to miss.

* * *

"Traitor."

"It was for a good cause."

Natasha glowered at Clint as she stood staring at a cherry red bike, the brand new spokes mocking her. Bobbi, Maria and even May had shown up to watch her make a fool of herself. She supposed she should be lucky that it wasn't the _entire_ agency out to shame her.

"Ready, Nat?" Bobbi clapped her hands, and it was impossible to miss the shit-eating grin that was on her face. Her helmet was already on, some bright blue monstrosity with golden flowers. She handed Natasha her own helmet, which - _much_ to her displeasure - was the same shade of red as her bike, only laced with white streaks here and there.

It clashed _horribly_ with her hair.

"'I'll pay you fifty dollars if I don't have to do this," Natasha begged shortly, only to be met by shaking heads and more grins. "A hundred." Another shake. "One-fifty. That's my final offer."

"It's actually protocol that each agent learn how to ride a bike before they can be assigned any type of SHIELD vehicle on two wheels," May said with a straight face, and when Natasha studied her face for _any_ sort of duplicity (because something like that had to be fake), May handed her a manual, a small Post-It flag sticking out of it. "Right there. Section 36B, Paragraph D."

Natasha sighed. "Screw you."

The grin on Bobbi's face only grew as she mounted her bike in one smooth move. Natasha watched enviously, wondering how many times she'd have to wipe out before her best friend declared her a lost cause. (But on the other hand, she really _did_ want to ride the bikes she'd seen in the garage...) "Come on, Nat," Bobbi cajoled. "We even left the kickstand up. Just get on the bike."

One more wary look at the bike, and Natasha straddled the center beam, slowly easing herself up onto the banana-shaped seat. _This was good._ She was only a few inches off of the ground, enough to help her land on her feet if need be. "Now what?"

"Take your right foot, kick up the kickstand, and lean to your left." Almost immediately after she did so, Natasha wobbled dangerously to the left, much to the amusement of Clint and May. Maria hurried over, intent on catching her if she did wipe out completely. "Okay, now you're going to slowly - slowly!" Bobbi yelped as Natasha tried to lean over heavily, "put your right foot on the pedal and push." She did so, and rolled about a foot before crashing to the ground.

"Fuck."

Above her, even Maria was having a harder time stifling her laughter. "It was good for a first try," she said, holding a hand out and righting Natasha's bike. "But what you have to do, right after you put your foot on the right pedal and push, is put your left foot on the pedal and push right after that. It's a push and pull game. Shift your weight to each side. It's like defending the side you're weak on," she finished, and Natasha nodded at the analogy. She could do that. Weaving back and forth. Easy.

* * *

"ACK!"

"Damn, you almost had it that time," Clint consoled as Natasha collided with a trash can, wobbling precariously before managing to land on her left side. "Try not to focus completely when you turn, it takes out your ability to focus on the rest of the road."

"You're doing great, Nat!" Bobbi called from somewhere down the long track. She'd lapped Natasha at least three times already in the time it'd taken the redhead to go a hundred feet. "Keep going like this and you'll be a pro in no time!"

"I highly doubt that," Natasha hissed as she pushed off on the bike again, wobbling slightly before settling into her rhythm. _Left, right, left, right..._

She was so focused on maintaining the internal chant that she completely missed the fact that she was now moving along at a gliding pace, her feet pumping like it was second nature to her. It was only when the cries grew to a earsplitting volume that she noticed:

"YOU'RE DOIN' IT!"

"YOU GO, ROMANOFF!"

"YEAH, NATTY! WHOOOO! GO, NATTY! RIDE THAT MOTHER!"

"I'm riding!" The revelation took Natasha so suddenly that she broke into a laugh. "I'm doing it!" she shouted, elation quickly overriding her system. " _I'm doing it!_ " she yelled over her shoulder, pedaling even faster. She wanted to feel the wind in her face and tell it to suck it, because _she,_ Natasha Romanoff, was riding a bike. And damn well, too. "I'M RIDING A BIKE!" She pushed her feet faster, wanting to see just how much the bike's metal frame could handle...

...and promptly collided with Bobbi's back tire.

The force of the impact actually jolted Natasha backwards, shoving her off of her seat. She instinctively leaned to the right, forgetting that she didn't have her kickstand on. Both of the women hit the ground with a shout, one of them with a Russian curse and the other with colorful language even the most seaworthy of pirates would've cringed at.

"Holy shit, that was a collision," Clint said incredulously as the three spectators hurried over to pick up the mess. He hauled Natasha up, holding her by the elbows. "You okay, Nat? We need to check you for a concussion or anything?"

She was spared an answer by Bobbi's woozy voice directed towards him. "You're cute."

Maria's disbelieving laughter broke the silence that followed, sending the other three into hysterics. Bobbi frowned at them, confused as to what they were finding so funny. "What?" she asked blurrily. "He is."

"I'm okay," Natasha chortled, "but first, someone needs to remember this and get _Morse_ checked for a concussion."


	24. Where's May? Not Snogging

"Psst. Romanoff. Romanoff. _Romanoff_."

"Fu' off, 'Ria, m' sleeping..."

"Natasha, come _on_. And it's not Hill. For that, I'm duly offended."

"Then who the fu..." Shoving her arm off of her face, Natasha blearily turned over to see who dared disturb her sleep. Her eyes shot open in a second, shoving herself into a sitting position while wrapping her thick SHIELD throw blanket around herself. " _What the hell, Clint_?"

Clint grinned and held out a thermos, as if an offer of coffee would make everything better. "I brought coffee?"

Still scowling, Natasha snatched the thermos out of Clint's hands, downing it. (She didn't ask how he knew how she took her coffee, especially at three in the morning.) "Don't think this makes it any better. You have five seconds to tell me what the hell you're doing before I kick your ass out of here. The long way."

"Remember when we had that conversation about pissing May off in her sleep?"

"She caught you? And you woke me up just to tell me that?" Shoving the thermos back at him, Natasha snuggled back into her blankets in an attempt to sleep. "Nice try. I'm going back to bed."

"I haven't done it yet. What I'm _asking_ is if you'd like to join me."

Natasha considered it briefly. If word got out that she'd participated in pranking shenanigans with Clint, neither Bobbi nor Maria would _ever_ let her live it down. But on the other hand, it _was_ May. Pranking May and getting away with it would be the feat of the century. _Fame or flame...?_ "On one condition."

"What is it?"

A lazy grin. "We bring Bobbi."

* * *

"So, like, am I third-wheeling this date, or...?"

"Just shut up and take the lookout," With a smirk and a salute, Bobbi darted off into the darkness, her bright blonde hair the only thing visible of her in the dim lighting. It (unfortunately or not, depending on who was telling the tale) left Clint and Natasha alone in the darkness, guns out and eyes wary.

"When was the last time someone even did this, anyways?" Natasha whispered harshly as she darted around another corner, swearing softly when the cans of silly string rattled around her waist. "I can't imagine doing this to May would be easy."

"In the entire history of SHIELD, no one's ever dared to prank Mel," Clint said shortly, checking behind his shoulder again to make sure no one was following them. "The last person that tried got sent to God knows where. The last person to _survive_ doing it was Coulson, and he just narrowly escaped. He won't talk about it."

"All clear," Bobbi whispered from up above, signalling down the hallway. "Or are you two too busy making out to remember what we're actually doing here?" That earned her the glare she needed.

"Shut _up_ , Morse."

"Ah, would you look at that. You're even speaking in unison."

Clint sighed and slowly creaked the door to May's room open. "It's not even as dangerous as it could be," he explained to Bobbi and Natasha. "May's in Bahrain with Coulson, and the only one that's around is Andrew." The girls exchanged looks - it was almost _too_ easy. Andrew had the tendency to sleep like a rock. "Coast clear. Let's go."

He made sure to spray Natasha with the silly string before coating the walls. "Clinton Francis Barton, you did _not_." She sprayed him back a little more than was needed, and soon, the two of them were engaged in their own little war while Bobbi watched from the other side of the room, a hand planted on her hip.

"Nerds." She shook her head and continued with her job, aggressively spraying the walls with neon orange silly string. (If it matched her frustration, then that was merely a coincidence.) The bottle of empty silly string hit the wall with a _thud_ as she switched cans, tuning out the sound of Clint and Natasha bantering with each other.

"Hey, Bobbi?" The blonde didn't realize she'd gone through several cans until Natasha waved a hand in front of her face. Blinking, Bobbi realized that she'd been spraying the several object many times over. Clint and Natasha had gotten to the rest of the room, it seemed. "You, uh, got something you'd like to share with the room?"

Bobbi shook her head and chucked her current bottle, kicking one aside with her boot. "Let's go." She led the way out of the room and down the hallway, Clint and Natasha following in whispers.

"Needs to get laid."

"When was the last time -"

"I don't know, but I don't think she's -"

"You gotta be kidding me, it's been _how_ -"

"I can hear you guys," Bobbi said loudly, rolling her eyes as she stepped into the elevator. "And I hope you two realize that everything that you're saying about me applies to you too."

They shut up right after that.

* * *

"Ey! Ey! Romanoff! Open up!"

This time, Natasha didn't even bother with pleasantries. "FUCK OFF, BARTON!"

"May's coming back and she's about to walk into her room Nat I _swear to God_ if you don't let us in we're going to fucking _die_!"

"Fuck off, too, Morse!" That coffee hadn't done any wonders for her, apparently. Clint and Bobbi exchanged looks for a single second before they pounded on the door again, their panic more palpable this time.

"Come on, Natasha!" "We're gonna die!"

"OH MY GOD." Both of them were in the middle of pounding on the door with both hands when it was wrenched open, causing them to nearly fall over each other as they stumbled in. Bobbi looked up at Natasha with a guilty expression. "Are you two happy now?"

"Much obliged," Clint said nervously. "I'd brace yourself for May's murderous rampage. I don't think she's over that time that we let loose a stinkbomb in her room."

Natasha gave him a look as he burrowed into a corner of her room. "You mean, last week?"

"Guys." Bobbi hushed them. "We have a window of five seconds. Five, four, three, two..."

But no sound ever came. "Maybe she went to go see Andrew first?" Clint suggested when the

telltale roar of his surname never sounded.

Another several minutes. "Maybe she fell asleep."

"Damn, Nat," Bobbi was already halfway through the vodka Natasha kept in her cabinet, a feat that made the redhead turn in shock and smack the bottle out of her hand. That stuff was _expensive,_ dammit. "I'd stay here all day too if I had this shit."

"We might have to," Clint said nervously, looking out the peephole repeatedly. "There's no telling when May's going to hunt our asses down."

* * *

Natasha was _thoroughly_ done with the both of them.

Over the course of the day, Clint and Bobbi had not only managed to finish a bottle of the only vodka she'd managed to steal from Russia, but had gone through all of her snacks and stolen all of her blankets. (Bobbi especially had taken the liberty of wrapping herself in a drunken burrito in the corner of the room, and would hiss at Clint whenever he came close.)

Natasha just plugged in some headphones and turned up the volume whenever one of them tried to converse with her.

Was she annoyed that the two of them were making a nuisance in her room? Sure. Anyone would've been. Was she annoyed they'd (okay, mostly Bobbi) drunk most of her vodka? That too. Was she annoyed that Clint played along when Bobbi was territorial in her blanket burrito? Hadn't bothered her a bit.

But when they started making out in the corner like it was high school all over again...there had to be a line somewhere.

"Get out."

Bobbi and Clint jumped apart like they'd been shocked, identical questions mirrored on their faces when they turned to her. "Get. Out," Natasha seethed, pointing a stern finger towards her door. The large quaff of vodka she'd managed to sneak earlier was suddenly roiling in her stomach. "Get out, both of you, before I - _you_ do something you regret."

(She wasn't sure which one it was yet.)

Once the door had timidly shut behind her, Natasha reached for a blanket to pull over her head, only to realize Bobbi had taken them all when she'd been banished from the room. Getting rid of her had surely been the right thing to do...hadn't it? After all, Clint and Bobbi were clearly embittered at each other when they were sober, so keeping them apart while drunk made her a good friend.

Bobbi didn't deserve to be anywhere near Clint, and Clint didn't deserve to be anywhere near Bobbi. That was the way it was.

An unbidden image of the two of them rolling around on her floor popped into her mind, and Natasha hissed at it, much as Bobbi had when she'd been wrapped up in the burrito. No one messed with Clint in a blanket burrito except for _her_. And only when they were watching those goddamned Nicholas Sparks movies with their single bowl of popcorn and respective drinks (her whiskey and his beers) and her pillows to whack him with whenever he yelled during a particularly important scene in the movie. _Only_ then was someone in a blanket burrito allowed to mess with him.

Maybe she'd tell Bobbi a completely different version of events. Maybe, Natasha smirked vengefully, she'd tell her she'd slept with Clint. It certainly would rattle the blonde, she mused, and probably keep her away from her vodka for quite some time. (And Clint, but that was just a bonus.) Maybe if she got May to give them a completely inflated story - _May._

Just where was she, anyways?

* * *

She didn't see May over the course of the next few days. There wasn't a single trace of her - not in the training room, not in the shooting range, not even in the administration's cube maze - which, Natasha admitted, had been a long shot, given May's hatred of administration.

It was almost like May'd vanished completely into thin air.

"Something's most definitely off," Maria agreed when Natasha brought it up to her the next day at lunch, the two of them staring disdainfully at Bobbi and Clint, who were _still_ canoodling in the corner. Despite their breakup having been the ugliest one in all of SHIELD history, both of them had taken their drunken makeout session to be some sort of sign from the heavens.

(Natasha didn't give a damn. Or, at least, she didn't when she was forced to watch Nicholas Sparks movies alone.)

"Do you think we should drop by?" Natasha asked worriedly, forking up a mouthful of salad. "Maybe ask Andrew to see if she's okay?" She promptly spit out the salad when she saw Bobbi feed Clint a tomato, pushing the offending meal away. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Sure sign of jealousy," Maria muttered behind a mouthful of chicken. Natasha whipped around to glare at her. "'M just sayin'."

"I am _not_ jealous of them." Why would she be? It wasn't like she had designs on Clint, Bobbi was her best friend and at perfect liberty to make out with whoever she wanted to...even though it was one of the only men she felt safe around. It didn't mean she liked him. _Ew. Certainly not._ "Although you think she'd come up every once in awhile for air and _converse_ with other people."

" _Anyways_ ," Maria coughed, perhaps to save Natasha from embedding her fork in Clint's ass (she briefly considered hitting Bobbi's, but that treason was a little more than she'd wanted), "May."

"We can drop by tonight," Natasha suggested, glad for the change in subject. Heaven knew she needed it. "Maybe bring some of that tea May likes so much. I'll meet you at six?"

"Six."

* * *

"When you said the tea was going to be hot, I didn't think you meant it'd be scalding, Putin," Maria hissed as she met Natasha outside of her door, juggling a thermos of tea in her hand. "Jesus, I don't know how you guys carry this stuff. Not even coffee's this hot."

"That's because coffee is ground up beans," Natasha retorted. "Tea is actual hot water with leaves. Water retains heat." She took the thermos from Maria, who let out an audible sigh of relief. "Come on, let's go. I think Barton and Morse are due to come around any time now."

"You know, you should just talk to her," Maria said, easily matching pace with her friend as they strode down the hallway. "Find out what's her reasoning for getting back with Barton." She rolled her eyes, pulling open a door. "I won't accept anything less than bribery."

"I would, but Bobbi's a little...busy," Natasha smacked the button to the elevator with a little more force than necessary. The two of them hadn't spoken since she'd banished Bobbi and Clint from her room that confusing day. (She still didn't have her blankets back. It made for some very cold nights.) "Maybe when I have to accept their wedding invitation."

"What _is_ your beef with them, anyways?" Maria asked, stepping into the elevator. Natasha followed, pushing the button to May's floor. "He's a good friend of yours. She's your best friend."

"The fact that they're just _together_ irks me," Natasha snarled. "She didn't trust him with her biggest secret, and he didn't trust her enough and hacked her file. They're an explosion of secrets waiting to happen. What makes them think this time will be any different?" The doors opened with a _swoosh,_ and they stepped out, absentmindedly following the shouts they heard down the hallway.

" _Talk_ _to me, Melinda! You always talk to me!"_

" _It's not_ _like_ _always, Andrew. This time's different. You wouldn't understand."_

" _Understand what?"_ Maria mouthed to Natasha as they edged closer to the door. May and Andrew's shouts streamed like ribbons from under their door, sneaking into their ears. Natasha only shrugged in response, quietly pressing her ear to the door.

" _At least let me_ _try_ _to understand!"_

" _YOU CAN'T!"_ The slam that followed was enough to make the walls rattle, and Natasha just stared at Maria, wide-eyed. Both women were paralyzed with confusion, unsure of what had just transpired between their surrogate mother and father. The stupor was broken by heavy-set footsteps coming towards them, and Maria tugged at Natasha's hand, forcing the both of them to run to the elevator.

 _What was going on?_


	25. A Wild May Appears

_Shout out to my ex, you're really quite the man_

 _You made my heart break and you made me who I am_

"Who broke your heart so badly?" Natasha turned, stripping off her headphones to see who the voice was. Much to her surprise, May was there, strapping on her own boxing gloves in preparation for what she guessed was a cathartic round with the punching bag. "I pity them, really."

"May," Natasha frowned, striding towards the petite Asian woman with gallons of confusion flooding through her. "I haven't seen you in weeks!" It was more like she hadn't seen her in months - May had changed, she noticed. There was something in her expression, she noted, that somehow had aged her years in a few measly weeks. "Where've you been?"

She held off on the 'how've you been' part, not wanting to start an incident based on the conversation she and Maria had heard a few weeks ago. "Out and about," May said curtly, stepping up to the bag and beginning to jab at it. Natasha watched, wincing as May seemed to hit the bag with all of her strength. "I apologize for not having had time to train you. I thought you would have been informed."

"Of what?" Natasha grabbed the bag May was punching at, studying her mentor with sturdy eyes. The air was tense, both of them breathing harshly to soften the sharp silence. "What's going on, May?"

"I'm transferring to Administration."

"WHAT?" Natasha was so shocked she dropped the bag, letting it swing and nearly whack May in the face. "Administration?" It wasn't possible. She looked around, searching for the hidden camera. "Am I being punked?"

"Do I look like the type of person who would punk you?"

Natasha thought back to the first time she'd met May, all sharp commands and unrelenting stares, but still with the interior of a baby bunny inside. "...yes?"

"No." May's eyes had lost that sparkle that Natasha had somehow taken for granted, and her voice was flat as she began to wail at the punching bag again. "You'll be getting a new superior officer until your rank rises high enough to handle your own missions. Then you'll be calling your own shots." She stopped punching at the bag to direct some of that flat stare towards her protegee. "Morse and I took a chance on you. Don't fuck it up."

"Well, Morse has been fucking a lot of things lately," Natasha snapped as she plugged her mp3 into the speaker. May offered no response, just a cock of the ear as the music started up once more.

 _I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs_

 _I crashed my car into a bridge, I don't care!_

"Spar?" May grunted over the pulsing beat of the song, and Natasha nodded silently, the two of them making their way over to the sparring ring in the middle of the room. They stared each other down while the bass thudded in the background, somehow mirroring the anger thudding in their veins.

Natasha was the one to swing first, launching herself at May with a battle cry that attempted to put all of her frustrations into one vocalization. May blocked it easily, her grunt nothing compared to the redhead's, but her swing just as fierce. The two of them battled it out - an attempted sweepout here, a half-nelson there - yet neither of them reaching the goal of victory or emotional exhaustion.

The music continued to change as they fought, but the ferocity in which they attempted to defeat each other didn't change.

In an odd moment of synchronicity, both May and Natasha tried to sweep each other off of their feet with a low kick, succeeding and sending each other to the ground. "Who pissed you off?" Natasha panted, though she had some inkling as to what had made her so angry.

"Wouldn't you like to know," May answered through gritted teeth, standing and holding a hand out to the young redhead. She tossed her a water bottle. "You go first, and maybe I'll consider letting you know."

"Barton and Morse are fucking again," Natasha's tone was bitter as soon as she pictured the two in domestic scenes, perhaps making dinner or settling down to watch a movie. (They had better not have been watching Nicholas Sparks movies - those were the ones _she_ watched with Barton, not her.) "And obviously, it's the worst fucking idea in the world, why would you ever get back together with anyone you didn't trust enough to keep secrets?" The spar over, she headed to the bag again, jabbing at it in anger. "They never stop," she complained. "All day. All night. They're either fucking or giving each other lovey-dovey looks from across the hall. It's disgusting."

May said nothing, only started up a slow rhythm against the speed bag. "A mission went FUBAR. Andrew couldn't handle it." The expression on her face suggested she wasn't about to give her student any more. "I...I couldn't handle it." The sounds of the speed bag increased until she was pummelling the bag at lightning speed, Natasha's cue to back away.

From the sounds of it, the mission had gone more than just FUBAR if it'd caused May to have an explosive argument with Andrew and disappear for days on end. But not once under her tutelage had Natasha known to get more out of her superior officer than she was ready to give, not even under torture - something she was pretty good at herself.

So she headed out, leaving May to jab at the punching bag with renewed strength and frustration at the fact that she'd even lost the ability to communicate with people in short interactions. How could she? They'd never understand what had happened in that compound. None of them. And if even if they did, she doubted that they would care. All that mattered was that one, the world was safer, and two, they'd gotten the job done. There was no need to concern themselves with the details.

* * *

"Bahrain fucked May up."

Maria looked up from her sandwich, surprised that for once the topic wasn't Clint and Bobbi. "What?" she asked through a mouth full of ham and cheese, and Natasha frowned mockingly at her until she swallowed. "You saw May?" She knew her friend had been trying in vain to find her mentor, spurred by some parts concern and some parts boredom now that she was shunning her two (former) best friends. "When?"

"Last night." Natasha decided not to mention she'd been beating the shit out of the punching bag at three in the morning when they'd met. "She came down, had a round with the speeding bag, and we sparred. She's transferring to Admin." The last part was said a little too late, for Maria spit out her current bite, a partially-digested chunk of cheese whizzing over Natasha's head. "Hill, that was fucking disgusting."

"She's transferring?!"

Natasha picked at a piece of lettuce that hat somehow found its way into her hair. "Yeah. I guess something happened there that made her want to get out of the field." Maria's eyes were wide, her sandwich forgotten. "Although I can't imagine what it would be. It seems like it takes a lot to rattle May."

"Yeah," Maria said finally, beginning to shovel down the rest of her sandwich despite Natasha giving her a dirty look. "Which is why, after I'm done with this sandwich, we're going to go find out what the hell it is."

"You had to pick the most conspicuous place for us to hack the network," Natasha hissed later as they were in the lobby, Maria typing frantically into a laptop she'd liberated from one of the techies. ('It'll just be a second,' she'd purred to the hapless computer engineers, who'd handed over their latest model without hesitation. 'Thanks!') "We could get caught at any second!"

"We're not staying here for much longer," Maria said distractedly, shutting the laptop shut with a snap. "I haven't actually started the trace yet because we're not at the second stage of the plan." Natasha frowned. She hadn't heard about a second stage when Maria'd explained to her an hour ago. "Watch and learn, young Padawan."

For a second, Natasha stopped, thoroughly confused. "Wha..."

Maria stopped as well, just as confounded. "It's...that's...you...just ask Bobbi." It took her another second to process the idea that there was a living, human being who hadn't watched Star Wars. Only then did she remember Bobbi's supposedly treacherous act. "Right. Never mind. Star Wars. Don't ask Bobbi, but she's obsessed with it."

Natasha didn't answer, but sighed as they got into the elevator, the eagle-shaped contraption beginning to climb floor after floor. When the doors dinged open on an unfamiliar floor, Natasha frowned at how Maria seemed to waltz out, knowing exactly where her destination was. "Where the hell are we going?"

"Keep watch" was all Maria said as she sat squarely down on the floor in front of someone's office. "If anyone asks, I'm trying to find illegal ways to watch _24_. This floor has the best wireless internet, God forbid they ever get around to updating my office. Damn techies." With that, she began to type so fast her fingers were blurry. Natasha sighed and complied, her eyes darting around the hallway. "Nat, you got a watch?"

Natasha nodded, automatically looking at her wrist. "Yeah, why?"

"Start your timer when I say...right...about...now." Natasha hit the button, still confused as Maria wrenched open the door, placed the laptop on the desk, and raced towards the elevator. "Come on!"

They piled in, Maria hitting the button for her office repeatedly. "What the hell is going on?" Natasha asked, checking her watch. Thirty seconds and counting. "Maria, did you set off a bomb or something? Am I going to get deported for this?" Maria just shook her head, pointing up at the camera in the corner of the elevator. Finally, they got to her office, and Natasha's grip on her friend's arm was harder than she cared it to be - after all, if her third best friend turned out to be a traitor, it would really say something to Natasha's taste in picking out friends.

"Sorry," Maria apologized once they were safely tucked behind closed doors. "Couldn't risk compromising the operation while we were still out in the open." Natasha still looked several shades of confused, so Maria chose to elaborate. "You really didn't look at whose office we were sitting outside of?" Natasha shrugged; she'd been too busy wondering how she'd managed to make so many flawed decisions in such short a time. Maria sighed. "Just look for the memo from HR tomorrow, yeah?"

* * *

Natasha nearly burst a lung when she read the short email the next morning.

"Mathers?" she wheezed, having to clutch the doorframe outside of Maria's office. "You managed to punt the whole thing on _Mathers_? Jesus, 'Ria, I knew you held grudges, but definitely not like this..." Maria, for her part, was smug, getting up and gingerly ushering Natasha into her office. "He'll be wondering for the rest of his life."

"Maybe not the rest of his life," Maria shrugged. "Hacking into a classified file is nearly considered treason. I'm sure they have people in jail who are willing to kill treasonists. Maybe I'll tell him on his deathbed. He'll love it." The two of them sat down in front of Maria's computer, ready to divulge the contents of their treasure. "Alright, May, what the hell did you do in Bahrain..."

A loud alarm blared from the computer screen, forcing the two of them to duck under Maria's desk out of habit. When they ascertained ten seconds later that nothing was immediately going to blow up, they stood, frowning at the single siren that wailed around and around the screen. Cautiously, Maria reached up and clicked her mouse, both of them flinching when they saw a video message.

"Shit," Natasha whispered. "How'd May find out?"

"She probably figured out that we were the only ones smart or stupid enough to hack into the system," Maria whispered. Both of them exchanged looks, expecting May, Coulson, Fury, or all three to burst in with piles of paperwork in their hands and a lecture at the ready. "Let's see what she's got in store for us."

 _"Hill, Romanoff,"_ May's voice echoed strangely through the office, and both women stood to see the screen better. May was seated in what they could only assume was a swivel chair, surrounded by towers of administrative materials. ("Shit," Natasha murmured. "She really did go through with the transfer.") _"If you're seeing this, congratulations and my condolences. One, you've managed to successfully infiltrate the toughest system in existence. Two, it was for nothing - because you'll only get access to this file after you do one thing. Romanoff, I assume you know. I can't have my best three agents fall apart just because I transferred."_ With that, the video clicked off, leaving Maria to stare at Natasha with wide eyes.

"You don't think she means -"

"She can't."

"Oh, she can," Coulson's voice was muffled through the door, but the threat was still the same. "Now if you two will come out, we have protocol to discuss."


	26. It's Too Late To Apologize (Sober)

May wanted her to apologize to Bobbi.

Apologize to _Bobbi_.

 _Apologize._

"That's bullshit and she knows it." Before Maria could speak, Natasha had fired off an entire magazine's worth of bullets, the shots ripping into the paper target faster than either of them could blink. Slowly, she lowered the gun, unblinking. "I'm not _apologizing_ to her like I was at fault. Not after that."

She snapped another full magazine into the pistol, firing it off without so much as a flinch. From the stall next to her, Maria looked on in caution. Natasha had only shown up to the gun range after having walked into the gym and found Clint and Bobbi on the floor, rolling around like the place was their damn bedroom. The redhead had grabbed several magazines and a .38, stalking to a range and beginning to empty clip after clip.

That had been three hours ago, and Maria suspected that whoever was on cleanup duty that night would host a real grudge in the morning.

"I'm not apologizing to the bitch," Natasha mumbled under her breath, slamming the gun down once it was evident that she'd effectively torn the paper from its clips. "I'm not."

"Natasha, don't you think you're -"

"How could they make such a stupid decision?!" Natasha whirled on Maria, her features seething with anger. "They _knew_ what it was like being with each other, hated it, and still did it anyways!" She slammed the gun down. " _I'm_ his partner. _She's_ my best friend. Best friends _don't_ _sleep with your partners_!" Everyone on the range turned as Natasha whipped the gun into the field with a shriek, watching it fall just short of the thirty foot range where their targets were. "I'm not apologizing! Ever!"

Maria sighed, taking Natasha gently by the elbow. "Come on, Nat, I think it's time for you to go." Together, the two of them took the elevator to Maria's office, where the agent promptly sat down the redhead and rifled through her drawer for some vodka and shot glasses. When she found them, she filled them to the brim and handed one to Natasha. "Cheers."

Natasha downed the shot, put the shot glass back, and gestured for the bottle. "I can do it," she deadpanned. "I could drink any one of you under the table. I'm Russian."

"I'd normally say no, but just this once," Maria handed Natasha the bottle, watching as she took a large swig. "Damn. You have to teach me that."

Natasha laughed mirthlessly. "No secret. Just genetics and a lot of practice."

"To practice, then," Maria held her glass up in a toast, laughing as Natasha toasted it with her bottle and took another large swig. "Why him, Nat? What's so bad about Clint and Bobbi sleeping together?"

"I'm not drunk enough to talk about it." Natasha half-chugged a good portion of the bottle while Maria watched with wide eyes. "Ask me during the second or third bottle and I might be inclined to tell you."

"You need more bottles?"

* * *

" _Боже мой,"_ Natasha breathed, staring at the racks that never seemed to end. "How the hell does SHIELD get ahold of all of this alcohol?"

Beside her, Maria snorted. "You don't think we send our field agents on missions without directing them to bring back some alcohol? I think there's some Jaeger in the back somewhere I brought back from my first mission."

Natasha was already browsing through the aisles, looking for the vodka. "SHIELD has expensive tastes."

"Don't I know it. You know how many times I caught May in here trying to take some of the whiskey home?"

"Doubt she'll be doing it anymore," Natasha said softly, running her fingers along the glass bottles before settling on a long line of clear containers. "Bring me a basket?"

"Just carry 'em over to a corner. There's usually beanbags and buckets. Perks of working at SHIELD." Maria was already picking out several different kinds of alcohols, lugging the basket over to Natasha. "Come on. I have a corner with my name carved into the wall."

* * *

It turned out that when Natasha Romanoff meant she needed a few more bottles, the range usually fell somewhere between needing about nine or ten before her syllables even started slurring. "And then she just goes in and _swoops_ in on him," Natasha snorted as she threw aside another bottle into the recycling bin. "He was miiiiiiine. IIIIIIIII wanted him."

"Then just take him, why don't you?" Maria looked over the rim of her third bottle, wide-eyed. Natasha was scary enough when she was sober, but drunk Natasha was a whole new level of terror she didn't want to breach. "I bet you could take Morse for him."

"She shouldn't have taken him from me in the firrrrrrst plaaaace," Natasha belched loudly, flopping back onto the beanbag. "'Sides, he doshent even like me. He just thinksh we're parrrrtners." She popped open another bottle of vodka, not even wincing at the burn in her throat. "Why the fuck would he go for meeeeeeee? Bobbi's what he wants."

 _SLAM._ "Stupid, lying, idiotic, piece of shit!" Maria paused, her shot glass halfway to her mouth. Natasha did the same, both of them wholly confused as to who would be storming the SHIELD wine cellar at what they were sure was some ungodly hour of the morning. "I should've _known_!"

" _Bobbi?"_ Maria mouthed to Natasha, who answered with a nonchalant swig of her vodka. Both of them listened as the unknown entrant rattled bottle after bottle, searching for something. As the rattling got closer, they could hear their mutterings under their breath.

"Her _fucking_ name, it's like he never saw me in the first place. It's like I didn't even _exist_ as a person. You!" Maria and Natasha stopped, eyes wide, as Bobbi stormed out of the shelves to their sitting place. " _You!"_

Natasha slowly put her bottle down. "Morse." Maria sighed and chugged the rest of her bottle, cracking open a fresh one. This was about to get ugly. "Where's Barton? I thought you two were attached by the mouth." Her face whipped back and forth before Maria could even see it, the only remnant of Bobbi's slap a red handprint on Natasha's face.

"Fuck you, Romanoff," Bobbi hissed, her eyes watery and hardened. "He never wanted me, only you - so you can take your smug Russian ass and fuck him all you want. I don't care what the hell you do."

Natasha let out a mirthless laugh. Maybe she'd deserved that slap. Maybe she really, really had. It'd serve her right for trying to make a move on SHIELD's most eligible bachelor. "You think this is just about him?" she questioned, tipping her glass back. "You think this is just about you stealing Barton from me?"

Bobbi slammed her glass down, some of the whiskey she'd poured into it sloshing out and onto the floor. "You avoided me for weeks," she admitted. "What other fucking reason would there be, other than I was stealing your so-called boyfriend? He wasn't yours, anyways."

"You made a stupid decision!" Natasha snatched Bobbi's whiskey, chugging it down when the blonde made a noise of protest. "You already knew that fucking him would lead to more lies, and you still went and did it anyways."

"Give that." Bobbi grabbed the bottle back, cradling it close as if it were her firstborn. "And I knew what I was getting into when we got back together. It's called compromise, Romanoff. You should try it."

"Compromise isn't kissing someone when you're drunk and continuing it," Natasha growled. "In Russia, we called that being easy and weak."

"THAT'S IT!"

Maria screamed when Bobbi tackled the redhead, aimlessly slamming her bottle at her head. Drunk or not, Natasha was still a lethal fighter, and Bobbi was a black eye and busted nose in before she even got a hit. There was _no_ way she was getting into the middle of that.

"You can't even see what's right in front of your face," Bobbi growled, panting for breath under Natasha's chokehold. "How can you call yourself a spy if you can't see that your friendship with Barton is the biggest piece of shit ever created?"

It was Natasha's turn to slap Bobbi, her inebriation causing the blow to lessen somewhat, but not by much. "At least it's not based on _lies,_ you bitch!"

"Oh my god!" Bobbi shoved Natasha off in a brief return of strength, getting to her feet. "I can't believe you can't see it!" Natasha got to her feet as well, eyes snapping. Bobbi didn't deserve any leeway for explanation. She'd taken Clint. She'd taken the once source of normality she'd had in her life and turned it upside down, snatching it out from under her nose without an ounce of regret. No, Bobbi didn't deserve a single inch of leeway. She didn't deserve a damn thing.

"Of course I see it!" she shrieked back at Bobbi, wanting to fling the words out until her face was as red as her hair. "You get Barton because you get everything. You get someone that'll try to understand you no matter how much you push away, you get someone who'll help you but won't help himself. You get someone who _cares_ , and the _God forbid_ I have someone care about me -!"

"You _like_ him!" The words stunned Natasha into silence, the cogs in her head turning furiously. She didn't _like_ Clint. Not in _that_ way. She liked how he acted before asking questions on a mission. She liked his bullshit attitude on love. She liked that he knew how to fight dirty, and wasn't afraid to do it.

She _hated_ how he was a little shit around any of them. She hated his stupid confidence whenever they sparred, because it was usually legitimate. (She'd get him someday. As soon as she finished beating the shit out of Bobbi.) And most of all, she hated that stupid smirk on his face whenever he had her pinned to the ground, it was cocky and infuriating and made her want to kiss it off of his face -

Oh, _no_.

Maria, on the other hand, was looking at Bobbi in pure exasperation. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" Bobbi shrugged. "Oh my god, Barbara Ann Morse. May's going to fucking _kill_ you."

" _No, no no no no no no no no..."_

" _Oh, ew," Bobbi plopped her head back to the ground when she looked up, hoping she'd lose enough brain cells to get rid of her current hallucination. (It had to be a hallucination, right? There was no other reason she'd even consider sleeping with Barton.) "Tell me we didn't sleep together."_

 _Clint was looking around him in horror and confusion. "We slept together," The idea hit home in the form of extreme nausea, and both of them leapt up in sudden horror, shoving at each other's shoulders in their attempt to get to the toilet first. Bobbi made it first, choking up bile first before heaving all of yesterday's vodka into the porcelain bowl. As she was panting over the side, Clint elbowed her aside, heaving his own beer and vodka with a large groan._

" _I don't even_ want _you," Clint moaned, resting his forehead against the rim of the toilet. Bobbi chuckled dryly, wincing when the laugh made her brain rattle around in the confines of her skull. "Well, I mean. Not that you aren't attractive. But you know what I mean."_

 _Bobbi took several deep breaths, willing her insides to realign themselves and for some miracle to allow her to get her head out of the toilet. "You want Nat." She wasn't stupid. She'd seen how they were around each other. Barton didn't watch Nicholas Sparks movies with just anyone. "God, she's going to kill me for this."_

" _Not unless you're part of the reason she realizes she wants me." Bobbi laughed, then quickly cut herself off as she dry heaved into the toilet again. She would've dismissed it if it hadn't been so true. Natasha wasn't kidding anyone, honestly. All she had to do was figure it out. "So help me. Save both of us."_

" _I'll do it," Clint lifted his head weakly to give Bobbi thumbs-up, rolling over and hitting the floor. "Ugh. We need to stop drinking like we're in our Academy days."_

" _I did some great things on a hangover," he protested. "I think I passed a field test when I was hungover. And I'll even to pretend to be your boyfriend while I'm hungover."_

"Bobbi?" Natasha asked in a small voice, barely holding onto her vodka. "Wha - wha - what...what's going on? What am I feeling?" Something was racing around her system now that she'd finally acknowledged her feelings towards Clint, a heady mix of anticipation and terror. What if he didn't want her? Would she be stuck feeling like this forever? "Please help me,"

Bobbi cocked her head, unimpressed with Natasha's turn of attitude. "You're asking for my help now? The oh so great Natasha Romanoff asks for _my_ help." At least she wasn't trying to claw Bobbi's eyes out now. It was a step up.

"I'm sorry!" The words tumbled past Natasha's lips and she dropped the bottle, bouncing up and down to try and give reason to her hammering heartbeat. She wanted to scream out the words, cry them out with thickly flowing tears and short breaths. "I'm sorry! I just want this feeling to go away!"

Maria stumbled towards her first, gently leading the redhead away from the broken glass and sitting her down. "Shhhh, Nat," she consoled. "It'll go away, I promise."

"You don't know that!" Natasha exclaimed, looking half-crazed as her world's structures crumbled around her. Love wasn't supposed to exist. She wasn't supposed to develop feelings for someone. She wasn't supposed to develop anything. This was not how it was supposed to work out! "Bobbi," she pleaded, reaching towards her friend. "Tell me it's going to be okay. Please tell me it's going to be okay."

Bobbi sat by her, gingerly taking Natasha's hand. "You like him a lot, don't you?" When Natasha nodded wordlessly, she swept her best friend into a hug, patting her on the back when she burst into tears. "Oh, Nat..."

"I don't wanna!" Natasha's feelings had reduced her into a sobbing mess, and she clutched Bobbi tightly. "Make it go away! Make it go away! Make it!"

"I can't, Nat," Bobbi finally understood how Maria felt when she'd saved her from her nightmare of an ex. "Feelings don't go away just like that, honey. It takes time." Was this how it'd been? Helplessness reigning in every cell of her body? She held Natasha close, sighing when warm tears soaked into her shirt. Inexplicably, a few tears of her own dropped from her eyelashes and onto Natasha's shirt, something hot and maternal settling into the core of her stomach.

She'd kick Barton's ass if he _ever_ came near her. She'd kick _anyone's_ ass that even came near her tiny redhead. She'd kick her _own_ ass if she ever hurt Natasha again, and she'd make it _hurt_.


	27. Hangover Cures

"Agent May, you have to see this!" Despite the fact that she'd all but renounced the title, the lowly agent that rushed into her section was still considered _lowly_ \- she'd given back her field life, not her ego. It was just locked away inside. Deep, deep inside.

"Throw it up, Parker. I've got stacks of paper to grade and negative time."

The whole of Administration let out a gasp when they saw Bobbi, Maria and Natasha sprawled out in the SHIELD wine cellar floor, shattered glass piled loosely around them. May was unconcerned, instead making a mental note to tell Coulson he owed her ten bucks. (Who on Earth would bet that the three of them would make up in the _shooting range_?)

Parker was looking at her weirdly. "Agent May? That's three of the best agents SHIELD has, should we not call for some kind of help...?" May waved him off and turned back to her work, pulling towards her yet another one of Barton's transgressions. Seriously, that man had to stop shooting silly string at foreigners that didn't give him coffee.

"They're fine. Romanoff will wake up first because she's Russian, then Morse, and then they'll have to drag Hill back to her bunk after she stops throwing up. Make sure they report to me when they recover, yeah?" With that, May went back to her work, the only sign she'd been interrupted at all the small smile on her face.

She had no intention of telling them what had happened in Bahrain, but at least the opportunity had spurred them into apologizing to each other.

* * *

A single arm came to life sometime around noon that day, flopping around exasperatedly to try and silence the annoying buzzing in her head. It was only when the alarm clock started slapping back sluggishly that Natasha cracked one jade eye open. Sure enough, there was no alarm clock - the buzzing in the back of her head was her hangover speaking, and she'd been slapping at Bobbi the entire time.

Something was off. Natasha Romanoff didn't _get_ hangovers. A wider look at her surroundings revealed sparkling vodka bottles shattered around she, Bobbi and Maria, some of them drenched with alcohol. Natasha tried to remember how many bottles she'd downed last night, and was forced to conclude that yeah, maybe she'd warranted herself a _small_ hangover. _Tiny._

"I just said I wanted to stop drinking," Bobbi groaned fuzzily from next to her, and Natasha snorted when the blonde opened her eyes and immediately closed them again upon catching a glimpse of the dim light hitting her corneas. "And now I'm drinking again. Fuck."

Natasha got to her feet, holding her hand out to Bobbi and hauling her up as well. They both stared at Maria, who had a glob of drool hanging off of her lip. Bobbi leaned heavily on Natasha's shoulder, and together, the two of them managed to get themselves together enough to clean up all of the shattered glass.

"So," Natasha said shortly, wincing when Bobbi flinched and nearly dropped the dustpan she was holding. "You're _not_ with Clint?"

Bobbi groaned. "No," she said. "Whatever Clint and I had that night we were drunk was puked up into the toilet next morning with beer and vodka. We're _not_ together. We did it so you'd finally realize you liked Clint." The glass in her dustpan clinked into the trash can. "And it worked. Could've done with less tears, though. I missed you."

Natasha was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Bobbi had actually pulled the rug out from under her. Some part of her subconscious had accepted it - the idea that even her friends would stab her in the back, even if it was for her own good. It went to show that she couldn't trust anyone completely, even though a larger part of her wanted to just accept what Bobbi had done and never suspect her again.

Who was she kidding? It was considered a _compliment_ to be suspected in this business. If she didn't suspect Bobbi herself every now again, she'd probably be doing the blonde a disservice. "I missed you too," she said finally, finding another bottle under the chair and chucking it into the bin. "It was pretty lonely shooting with Maria. Can't shoot for shit."

"...fuck you. _Fuck_."

"Maria!" Bobbi exclaimed cheerfully, smirking when Maria grabbed at her head. "How ya feeling?" Natasha just laughed, throwing another bottle in the bin and bending down to sweep up some more shards. "Boy, what a rager you drank up last night, huh?"

Maria rolled over and sighed in relief almost immediately, the darkness of the floor soothing her eyelids. "How the hell are you two even off of the floor?" Even the vibrations of her own voice made her wince and shudder. "Never mind. I forgot Morse was superhuman and Romanoff was _literally_ superhuman."

"I think we're gonna have to get some help here," Bobbi laughed even more upon seeing Maria feebly give her the middle finger. "I've tried lifting Hill off of the floor before, and it usually ends up with a black eye and a slide down some stairs." Another finger. "Yeah. That too."

Natasha just shrugged and lifted Maria effortlessly onto her shoulders, ignoring Bobbi's shocked look and Maria's loud protests. "First, we're going to go force water into this one," she said, jerking a thumb at the still-yelling agent. "Then I'm going to go find Barton and beat the shit out of him for pulling that over me. Then I hope you've sobered up enough, Morse, because then it's you and me in the ring."

Bobbi gulped. Apparently all _wasn't_ forgiven.

* * *

 _WHUP._

"What the fu -?" Clint ducked as another bullet buried itself into the wall behind him, covering his head. He wasn't sure which one of the agents he'd slept with this time was coming after him, but judging by the way they were coming so close to him, it was probably one of the specialists. (He _probably_ shouldn't have decided to sleep with Maynard last week. Or her sister.)

"BARTON."

Never mind. This was much, much worse.

"If you stop shooting at me, Nat, I can explain -!" Another bullet just nicked the edge of his shirt, and Clint barely had time to marvel at the miss when another one swished at the hem of his pants. Yep. Natasha was definitely playing with him. Just like he had. Sort of. But did it really count as 'playing' when his end game had been asking her out? "Nat, come on, please!"

The bullets stopped for a minute, and Clint peered out from behind the corner. Natasha was standing there in yesterday's clothes (not that he'd paid attention at all), crimson hair plastered to her cheekbones and her gun in her hand. "You have thirty seconds."

He probably wasted five marvelling at how she still managed to look good despite the (however small) hangover she was sporting, but they were five he gladly would've wasted if they were going to be his last moments on earth. "Look, I knew you weren't going to realize it on your own -"

"Realize what?"

"I like you," The words came tumbling out sans pretext, and should he ever be forced to remember it, Clint would vehemently deny such a thing had ever happened and re-tell the story with much more grace than had actually occurred. "I like you, Nat, but I didn't want to push you into anything because I knew that all of this feelings shit was new to you and you'd probably freak out if I told you, okay?" He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the final shot. "So I tried to get on your level the only way I knew you would get, and that was through a negative emotion! Don't shoot!"

"I...I guess I like you too."

"Look, we can forget any of this ever happened and I'll reassign myself and - wait, what?" Clint opened his eyes again. Natasha had lowered her gun, her gaze following it and plastering itself to the ground. "What did you just say?"

"I like you too, Barton," The voice that answered was small and unsure, so unlike Natasha that he nearly strode over and pinched her to make sure she wasn't being controlled. "I...I realized it last night, when I was mad at Bobbi for dating you. Fake. Dating you." She stumbled over the last few words, shoving her gun into her holster. "It's all new to me, okay? I'm not sure...I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be feeling."

Something loosened in Clint's shoulders, and he went to sit at Natasha's feet, unable to keep himself up any longer after the loss of adrenaline. She frowned down at him and sat down beside him; the two of them just sat there in the SHIELD hallway, a couple of agents surrounded by eggshells of something new.

"You don't have to feel anything definitive," Clint said finally, exhaling when Natasha looked over at him. "Liking someone is different for everyone." He hesitated at saying _love_ \- that was the emotion that everyone really felt differently, but he was pretty sure she would bolt if he said that. "There's not a right way to do it."

"You're not trying to sleep with me, are you?"

Clint choked. " _What?_ "

"You're not trying to sleep with me. You actually like me." Natasha scrutinized him with those jade eyes he admired and feared at the same time. "I've heard what you've done around the agency."

"Natasha, _no_ ," Phil and May had always warned his sleeper past was going to bite him in the ass some day. He'd just hoped it'd been that one time he'd tried to woo Bobbi. "I'm not trying to sleep with you. Besides, if I was, I would've gotten you good and drunk first." He chanced a grin. "Surely you heard about that part."

This time it was Natasha's turn to heave a sigh, and she got to her feet in one fluid motion, Clint following. "I guess?"

"Look, I'll show you what it's like," Clint said. "Dating. We call it dating." The look she leveled him was nearly enough to make him run for the nearest fire exit. "You've heard of dating. Right." He was suddenly struck by an idea. "You've still got that list, right?" Natasha nodded, a frown creasing between her eyebrows. "I'll help you cross things off of it."

"As my friend, or...?"

"As whatever you feel comfortable calling me,"

Natasha sighed again. She liked Clint. She did. She liked whatever they'd had before the whole fiasco, and she'd do anything it took to get that back. She'd even date him...whatever the hell that was. It was a concept she'd heard of, yes, but never something she'd actually experienced. The few girls that she'd known that'd gone on _dates_ had come back bloody and bruised, but something in the pit of her stomach told her that wouldn't be how a date with Clint went. Still, it was a cliff she wasn't prepared to jump off of just yet.

So she quashed the turmoil in her stomach, sighed again for good measure, and looked up at him. "Friends. Friends who like each other." Clint nodded, and she grinned shyly. "So, _friend._ Wanna come see me beat up Morse? I'm up against her in the ring in an hour."

* * *

"Remember, if she goes for the stomach, it's a fake-out, you gotta go for the face," Maria whispered brusquely to Bobbi as she taped up her hands forty-five minutes later. The chatter of agents was clear outside, Clint's loud proclamation of 'EVERYONE! ROMANOFF VERSUS MORSE! BETS GO TO ME!' had apparently spread like wildfire, and now what seemed like the entire agency was standing in the gym, waiting restlessly for the match to start. "And if she goes for the face, she's probably going to headlock you. Don't give her that chance."

Bobbi swallowed back the bile that was developing in her stomach, shaking a loose hair out of her face. "And if she straightens her knees, she's going for the spin-out, go for the knees," She looked at Maria, who was regarding her with apprehension and serious doubt. "How the hell did I get myself into this?"

"You went with Clint's harebrained scheme," Maria shrugged. "You know those always end badly. Look at it this way. At least May never came after you for the silly string, right?" Bobbi shuddered as she recalled one of the horror stories she'd heard of a poor rookie who'd pranked May. "It could be a lot worse than this. She's not gonna hurt you _too_ badly. You're her best friend. It, like, violates the rules of feminism."

"You did _not_ just say that."

" _And weighing in at a weight I don't want to mention, standing five foot eleven, BOBBI MORSE!"_ The roar outside was _far_ too loud for the loud crowd of agents she'd heard a minute ago. There couldn't have been _more_ agents...could there?

"Go get 'em, tiger!" Maria shoved Bobbi out the door despite her pleading glances back, begging Maria to let her stay. She was instantly blinded by stage lights (how had they even _gotten_ those in here?), the crowd roaring in her ear.

Somewhere in the throng, she found Coulson with an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, while Bobbi's face twisted in confusion. "I bet on Romanoff." Her stomach dropped. Coulson had _always_ bet on her, except when she'd been facing May.

That was it. She had to win.

Bobbi didn't remember stepping into the ring, nor did she remember a referee telling them to fight fair. She didn't remember Natasha looking at her with pure, unadulterated determination on her face, the expression quickly changing to confusion and disgust when Bobbi's nerves and disappointment finally got the best of her, last night's alcohol making a reappearance all over her best friend.

She _did_ , however, remember waking up with a significantly worse headache than last time.

"Ah. She's awake, Putin."

"Wha' happ'n'd?" Bobbi came to recognize her voice as her scratchy 'I just puked way too much and now my throat is filled with stomach acid' voice, and groaned. "Di' I win?" Maria laughed loudly at that, a shiv stabbing itself into Bobbi's brain.

"Did you win!" Maria crowed. "After you puked on Nat, you passed out and everyone cheered because they all bet on her to win. Then, Nat sat on the floor and laid down and put your hand over her stomach so it'd be a pin. They had no choice but to call you the winner. You should've seen their face! Did you win," she chortled. "Girl, you fucking _slayed_."

Another wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol rocketed through Bobbi's stomach, and she lurched up. The only thing saving her blanket was the bucket, which Maria had instinctively thrust under her nose. The brunette wrinkled her nose at the acrid vomit filling the bucket in front of Bobbi, patting her back while she coughed the rest of it out.

"What do you mean, she lost on purpose?" Fighting was a mark of Natasha's self-esteem; what would've made her want to throw the fight so badly she'd choosingly suffer at the hands of the voices in her head? That she'd endure the humiliation of everyone who'd bet on her? "Why the hell did she do that?"

"There are some things that aren't worth fighting over," Bobbi and Maria looked up to see Natasha walking into the room, toweling her hair dry. Shame washed over Bobbi once more, and she looked down, the ends of her hair trailing through the bucketful of vomit. "Hey. Look at me. Bobbi. Look. At. Me." Two careful fingers tilted Bobbi's chin up, careful not to touch the puke. "You're my best friend. Or, at least, if what you've taught me is right, you are. I would never fight my best friend on anything It's you and me, Morse. Past the end of the world."

"Nat..."

"Past the end of the goddamned world, Morse. This means I'm never going to fight you, okay? Never."

"I can't..."

Natasha tapped Bobbi's chin. "Hey. I'm trying to make a speech here. You saved my life that day. At first, I thought it was a debt I'd have to repay to you. But then you started being my friend and I met Clint and so many things happened that I never imagined would. Never beyond my wildest dreams." She chuckled a little. "Hell, my wildest dreams included dying. A snapshot of what lows my life sunk to. But no matter what, _you are my best friend._ "

Bobbi was silent for a moment before she cracked a grin, despite the fact that her throat was dry and her stomach empty. "I love you too, Persephone Putin."

Natasha rolled her eyes so far back they nearly did a whole rotation in her head. "Yeah, yeah, Morse. Now scoot over, SHIELD is shit with the thermostats." Despite Bobbi's protests, she still pulled back the covers, allowing Natasha to crawl in beside her and attempt something approximating a snuggle.

Maria just _hmphed_ and stomped out of the room.

"She's jealous, isn't she?" Bobbi laughed, only to be answered with a yawn. "Nat?"

"Shut the fuck up, Morse. I want to sleep off this hangover."

"But you haven't told me about how things went with Barton!"

Natasha dragged her eyelids open. "He likes me. I like him. I'm not sure what liking him means. We're friends that like each other. He's going to help me cross things off my list. Happy?"

Bobbi tried to kiss her cheek, laughing when Natasha squirmed away with a small, disgusted sound. "Aw, my wittle Nattie's growing up!"

"Go to sleep, or I'll make sure you won't live to see tomorrow."

"I love you too."

* * *

 **Welcome, peeps of all ages and genders, to the end of our first installment! The next one will be titled 'Firsts', so keep a lookout aka all of the three people that read this LMAO. It might not be for a while, because something else is definitely in the works. That being said, I still need hella ideas for the list, so hit me up with things you think Nat would want to do!**


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